


Put Me In Coach

by PastPresentFiction



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Coach Negan (Walking Dead), F/M, Original Character(s), Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 80,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24828247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastPresentFiction/pseuds/PastPresentFiction
Summary: Amara Kendall is an 18 year old senior who is ready for her final year of high school.  On her very first day of her final year she learns that Coach Negan has given her an incomplete on her second required year of PE. A repeat of hell is not what she signed up for, but then again, neither is what she ends up with...Not that she's complaining...Anymore at least.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 76
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-The Walking Dead. I still own nothing. I play with the characters and give them someone new to play with, that is my sin. Enjoy!

Senior year. Three years of high school, eight years of elementary and junior high, just so I could reach this, my final year. The first day of my FINAL year in this school and I end up in the principal’s office. Seriously?

“Miss Kendall.” Principal Jones was looking over my file, I could tell because my name was almost bold and highlighted.

And I was confused. I had an impeccable record. My grades were high, my extracurriculars were all academic, there was absolutely NO way that I should be in this office today of all days.

“Yes, Mr. Jones?” I was fighting to sound calm, but this was the freaking principal and he was looking at me like I was lacking. Shit.

“Miss Kendall, it appears that you’re missing some vital credits.” What? “Just one, actually.”

“Mr. Jones, that’s impossible.” I offered, my schedule this year was packed. And it was perfect. “I-Mrs. Rosin looked over my credits, every single year.” My guidance counselor, Mrs. Rosin had worked hand in hand to make sure all my credits lined up with the college requirements of my target schools.

Mr. Jones, looking far too much like a turtle for his own good, looked over his glasses at me. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Rosin missed a required class. If you expect to graduate this year,” I felt my eyes widen. “Then you’ll have to fit this one in, Miss Kendall.”

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “Which one?” Please, let it be math, or another history class. Don’t, under any circumstances be-

“Physical education.” Shit, shit, shit. “I’m sorry, Miss Kendall, but you seem to have missed a semester of PE.”

“I thought we were only required to take two semesters?” I got into debate mode. I’d taken Coach Negan’s hellscape of a class for both Freshman and Sophomore years, I could fucking swear it. “I took it Freshman and Sophomore year.”

“Actually, according to your records, you received an incomplete in tenth grade.” What? That rat bastard. “And that means-”

“I have to retake the class.” My voice was practically a growl. I wanted to kill that asshole. “Of course I do.” He was such a fucking irritant. Arrogant asshole. “If I could get Coach Negan,” I spit his name out like it was poison. “To agree to retest me, could I get the credit without taking the class again?” Anything, please God, anything other than seeing his smug, mocking face every fucking day for a semester.

“It’s not likely, Miss Kendall.” Mr. Jones warned, but he gave in. “If you can get him to agree, then yes, you can skip the class itself.” I nodded and started to stand, but he stopped me with another warning. “You know he’s never given the option to another student.”

“Then I’ll just have to be more persuasive than they were.” I answered, walking out of the office.

I took my revised schedule from the secretary and glared down at it. Physical education was right after lunch, because of course it was. I made my way through my classes without noticing. I took my notes, I answered questions, I did every single thing that I normally did. All muscle memory, brain and eye memory. I didn’t have to think about doing it. Or answering correctly. That was simple.

Lunch was a blur. My best friends clucking around me, not quite understanding my distraction.

“It’s not like you’re gonna be waterboarded,” Mary, the voice of reason chimed in. And I glared at her. “It’s badminton and wiffleball.”

“And the coach isn’t exactly hard on the eyes,” Eric added, giving his eyes a suggestive wiggle.

I laughed despite myself. “You could try harder to not be SO flaming.” I was picking at a muffin on my tray. The only prepackaged food that didn’t look disgusting in the cafeteria. “He’s an asshole, you both know that.”

“He’s not that bad,” Mary rolled her eyes. “Or at least he isn’t if you don’t correct his grammar every three seconds and argue about how many laps he’s made you do versus, I don’t know the cheerleaders.”

“ONE time,” I argued. “One freaking time, and he was wrong.” I was glaring again. “Why did I have to do fifteen fucking laps and that bimbo do five when she was in just as much the wrong as me?”

“Didn’t you tell Kelly that it was a good thing that she was so limber, since she’d be making her cash on, and I quote ‘the pole’ after high school?” Eric asked, grinning widely.

I groaned. “Only after she’d made a rather rude comment about my inexperience with the opposite sex.” A polite way of saying she’d compared me to Virgin Mary so many times that I was ready to rip her extensions out at the roots. “Shit. Tell me the truth, how good do you think I am at changing people’s minds?”

“You’re awesome, I’ve watched you debate.” Eric smiled. “But Coach isn’t one of the debate team students and he’s less likely to give you a pass.”

“Unless you’re prepared to use ALL your assets.” I shot Mary a look. Irony, she was named Mary and she’d probably slept with more people than Kelly.

I had to fight the urge to smack my forehead off the table. “Why me?”

“My guess?” I shot Mary another glare. “You pissed him off one too many times, this is your punishment, just you know, late.”

“You could ask him to just give your ass a nice spanking and then call it square.” Eric said as he tossed a chip in his mouth and made an indecent sound, either from the flavor or living vicariously through the image he’d created of Negan spanking me.

“Not happening.” I stood up, closing my eyes against the torture that was coming.

Mary and Eric chuckled at the martyred expression on my face. “Why are you fighting it so hard?” She asked me, a smirk on her face. “It’s not like you’re out of shape or that you can’t do it.”

“Not the fucking point.” I growled, grabbing my bag. “I already did it. I shouldn’t have to do it again. It’s not-”

“Fair.” They both finished for me with matching grins. “Yeah, but you might have to. Fair or not.” Eric stated calmly.

I straightened my back and fixed the skirt of my dress. “Or, he can pretend to be a reasonable human being instead of a rancid asshole and I can get on with my preplanned Senior year.”

“Good luck,” they called as I walked out of the cafeteria, trying desperately to believe that I had a chance at winning the battle ahead.

I found him in his office. He was leaning back in his desk chair, feet up on the surface of his desk, and looking like he was waiting for me. Shit.

“Why, Miss Kendall, whatever brings you to see me?” He was smiling and his dimples were deep with glee. Fuck. “Oh, that’s right, you’re doing a repeat.”

I forced my face into a smile. “Actually, Coach, I wanted to speak with you about that.” His eyes were twinkling and I had to fight glaring. “I think we both know that I completed my second semester, and if I could retake any of the written tests, then I could be out of your hair and on my way.” To a real class. That I really need.

“We both know?” He sat up, placing his feet on the floor, but staying in his chair. “I don’t think I’d agree with that assumption.” Shit. “After all, I’m the one who marked it incomplete.” And then, to prove that Mary and Eric were right, the zinger. “Did I say that properly, Miss Kendall? I know what a stickler you are for proper English.” Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

“Yes, sir.” I answered, and I could have sworn that his eyes darkened. “I can’t dress for class today, I wasn’t told until I got to school that my schedule had changed.”

“That’s fine, Miss Kendall.” He stood and I stepped back, he seemed to fill the small room. “For today, you can take inventory.”

Days and days of torture. “Miss Kendall, keep your knees up.” Or “Miss Kendall, your eye isn’t on the ball.” The reminders to move faster, that I was older than my classmates, to keep up. I wanted to take the plastic bat and smack him right in his short wearing dick.

Lunch became pep talk time for my best friends. “Look you’ve made it a month.” Eric kept the countdown going. “You’ve only got three more months, and most of two of those are holidays.”

“And you’re keeping your cool,” Mary would pitch in. “You’re not calling him out on his weird shit, you’re doing what you’re told. It’s cake.”

And then I’d leave and go change and start another round of torture. Pulling on shorts and my sports bra/tank combo, tie my tennis shoes and ignore the underclassmen. It became a habit. And then to the gym to hear what our fearless coach had in store for that particular day’s hell.

“Miss Kendall,” I was stretching, getting ready for laps, not from punishment but for class. I looked up and waited. “Come here, Miss Kendall.” Don’t roll your eyes, I was telling myself, don’t roll your fucking eyes.

“Yes, Coach?” I asked, oozing perky politeness.

Negan was staring down at me, and his lip quirked. “Miss Kendall, I was thinking that another inventory is due.” Yes, I thought, fucking no sweating for me today. “Let me get the class started and you and I will head over and get started.” Wait, what?

“Didn’t I do it well the last time?” Come on, don’t make me deal with you for the entire class.

“You did fine, but I want to DIG A LITTLE DEEPER into the equipment stocks.” Damn it, did he mean for that to have the innuendo? Or was I just, shit, was I getting horny? Fuck, was Eric rubbing off on me now?

“OK,” please tell me that I didn’t sound as breathless to him as I did to myself. “I’ll just go, get the clipboard.” I wandered to his office.

I was looking for the damn clipboard when I heard him enter the office. Usually the damn thing was right on the corner of his fucking desk, but today of all fucking days, nowhere to be found. I was just about to ask him where it was when I realized that he was leaning against the closed office door. Damn it.

“Miss Kendall.” Had his voice always been this deep? “I thought we should have a private conversation, before we get started on inventory.”

I nodded, and felt like I’d run the fucking laps when I wasn’t looking. Why was I breathing so damn hard?

“You alright?” He’d moved closer and was looking down at me again. He licked his lower lip and my eyes landed on the movement. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I can’t find the clipboard.” I offered, lamely.

He smiled. Not a smirk, not mocking, just a smile and it changed his entire appearance. “I’ll get it for you in a minute, sweetheart.” His hand moved up and he brushed my bangs away from my eyes where they’d fallen during my search. “Do you hate me, Miss Kendall?”

My eyes narrowed, was this a trick? “No, of course not, Coach.” I swallowed when the pad of his finger brushed my cheek. “I just hate gym.” And the tone you use to get your way. I added.

“I can be a bit harsh,” he sounded so quiet, so different. “I just want everyone to reach their potential.” I nodded and bit my lip. His eyes landed on my teeth worrying it. “You remind me of myself, Miss Kendall.”

Wait, what? “I’m not sure I-”

He moved past me and grabbed the clipboard off the top of his filing cabinet. Way beyond my eye level. “Smart mouth. Hates shortcuts. Willing to take the punishment if it’s worth the cost.” My stomach clenched at the way he said ‘punishment’. “Here,” he handed me the clipboard. “Let’s go get knee deep in balls.” And I found myself laughing despite myself and his grin in answer was something I found myself enjoying.

I stopped hating going to the gym after lunch as much after that day. Not that Negan had stopped being demanding. Oh that wasn’t ever likely to happen. He just started being a little less abrasive. I even convinced him that my first name wasn’t ‘Miss’.

“Amara?” Ah, there it was, my actual name. I jogged over to him from where I’d been hitting the tennis ball against the wall. Rain made the courts unusable. “Can you come after school today? I have a,” he glanced down at me and I felt my stomach flutter. “Job for you.”

“Sure, Coach.” I answered, jogging back to my place in line, knowing from the burning feeling on my back that he’d watched me go. I fixed my ponytail while waiting for another go, and glanced back to see him biting his lip as his eyes stayed on me. Dear Lord.

The end of the day found me walking back to the gym, wearing another dress, very similar to the one I’d worn on the first day of school. The building had emptied fast, it was the middle of the week, no clubs were meeting. It was raining and gross outside, so the sports teams had practice cancelled. The halls were eerily quiet, the flashes of lightning and the crashes of thunder the only noise other than my shoes on the tiles heading to his office.

If I was being honest with myself, and why not? I knew that we’d been tap dancing around something. The flirting that wasn’t overt, but it wasn’t subtle either. The way he’d stopped calling me ‘Miss Kendall’. The way he felt comfortable with casually brushing my bangs out of my face, or tugging on my ponytail when I jogged in front of him. Not in full view of the class, but when we both knew we could take notice of it.

Somehow I knew, as I finally saw his office door in view, that today was it. The climax of those touches, those comments. That when I knocked, and he invited me in, we’d finally figure out what the fuck we wanted.

I knocked and heard his low voice call out for me to come in. “Amara.” He was sitting exactly how he’d been sitting that first day of term. Leaning back in the chair, feet on the desk, and smiling up at me.

“Coach.” I answered, leaning against the other side of the desk. I saw his eyes flicker down my body, at least the part he could see now. The red plaid dress, long tight sleeves, buttoned up and belted, with the flared skirt. “You asked to see me?”

That smile, those dimples, and fuck those eyes all trained on me. “Oh, I definitely wanted to see you, princess.” Shit. Princess? “Come here, sweetheart.” His feet hit the floor and he sat up in the chair and pushed back from the desk.

I walked around his desk and he pushed his chair back and stood up. “What do you need me to do, sir?” I asked, looking up at him. He inhaled sharply at my words and I smiled when I realized my words were double edged.

“I thought we could go over,” he turned toward his desktop and I saw a pile of papers. “These.” he tapped the top. “Test grading, I fucking hate it.”

“Oh.” I turned to the pile, and felt him standing behind me, close enough to feel his heat, but still far enough back that he wasn’t touching me. “So you want me to grade these for you?”

And then he was pressed closer, his body touching my dress, but not my body. “I’ll help, of course, but yeah. If you don’t have plans?”

My eyes closed at the feeling of his warmth so close to me. I cleared my throat and fought against turning around and pulling him to me. He was my teacher for fuck’s sake. “No plans.” Breathless again, fuck. I bit my lip and waited for him to take his seat, for him to push some of the papers to the side for me to handle and let me grab a chair to do it. Instead, his body closed the small gap and I felt him. ALL of him. And boy, was there more of him than I expected. Shit.

He leaned over me and pointed to the top of the pile. “This is just one class,” I felt his breath teasing my hair. “I have a full load this semester, so it may take awhile to get through all of them.” Damn it, another double meaning. His full load...fuck.

My lip was close to bleeding by this point. His heat was one thing, but his fucking body? Yeah, that was going to fucking kill me. “I have the time.” Jesus, I sounded like a bad Marilyn Monroe impersonator. Pretty fucking soon I’d break out into a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday, Coach Negan.’

“Glad to hear it, Amara.” Did he have to say my name like that? Like he could taste it, me? Savor the letters, make a full meal out of one syllable. He still hadn’t pulled away, and before I made the conscious decision to do it, I bent over to study the papers and let my butt roll back into his body. I heard his breath hiss out of his lips and fought a smile.

Looking over my shoulder, I could see his eyes were closed, like he was fighting against something. “Guess we should get started, right Coach?” His eyes opened and found me looking at him, and those dimples came back with a smile.

“Good idea.” And then he was in his chair, and gesturing toward one of the less comfortable ones on the other side of the desk.

We worked through the piles, me wondering the entire time if he had kept the grading of all of them off until today because the piles seemed endless. Not that I was complaining, not really. Negan asked me questions as he worked through his pile, and I answered glaring at some of the papers wondering how bad these kids had to be to fuck up a quiz in gym.

“Which of my dumbass students is taking you to Homecoming, Amara?” He asked, at one point, eyes not leaving the paper in front of him.

“Homecoming?” I looked up at him. The hell did that come from? “Who said I’d be going to Homecoming?”

I saw his eyebrow raise, even with his eyes down on the paper in front of him. “You are a Senior, right?” I chuckled, well spotted.

Rolling my eyes, I turned my attention back to the paper in front of me and red lined another wrong answer. “Yep.” I popped the ‘p’, and groaned. “Don’t see why that means I have to participate in the archaic bullshit that is Homecoming.”

I heard his answering laugh, but kept grading. “No ambitions to be queen?” My eyes rolled again. “Or holding out for prom?”

“Neither.” I looked up to see him studying me. Putting the end of my red pen between my lips, I considered why he would assume I’d want either. Wow, a Senior girl, must want a tiara? I pulled the pen from my lips, pretending I didn’t notice how his had been focused on my absent sucking on a pen for shit’s sake, and smiled. “I guess you haven’t noticed, Coach, but I don’t need a crown to be a fucking queen.”

His smile turned into a full blown laugh. “Guess not.” And then we went back to grading. A few minutes passed and then, “No date?” What? On the test? I didn’t answer, thinking it was something he was asking the test. “Amara?”

“Yeah?” I looked up and met his eyes.

“Don’t have a date?” He asked, again, and I realized it had been directed at me.

I squinted, trying to pick up the conversation where we’d stopped. Homecoming. Ah. I shook my head. “No, no date.” I didn’t feel like pretending I cared about football, or the dance, for that matter. I started to return my attention to the next test, when he stopped me again.

“Must be fucking blind,” it was almost a mutter, but I looked up at him again, and saw him still studying me. “Those assholes must be fucking blind.” I felt the fluttering of butterflies in my stomach grow.

“Not sure about that,” I offered, looking back down. “I didn’t say I didn’t have offers, Coach, I said I didn’t have a date.” I was smirking at the paper in front of me, holding back a giggle. Shit, he’d looked so aghast by the mere thought of no one taking notice of me, I couldn’t help it.

“Who?” He had gone back to his own stack, and sounded almost nonchalant. Almost.

I flicked through the next few questions before asking. “Joe Malberry,” captain of the wrestling team. “Josh Grady,” one of the football players. “Oh, yeah, and Alex Ransom,” pitcher on the baseball team. I kept marking papers, but couldn’t hear his pen touching the papers in front of him. Curious I looked up to see he was watching me again. “What?” I felt self conscious.

“Collecting players from all the sports, princess?” His voice was low and sounded dark.

I shook my head again. “I don’t have a date, like I told you.” Not that I didn’t date, or that I hadn’t dated each of the guys I’d named, but he looked somewhat dangerous and I was smart enough not to poke a caged bear.

“And no boyfriend?” Ah, great, more relationship questions. Another shake of my head. “Why not?”

I kept my eyes on him. “Why get serious with a boy?” I leaned forward slightly, like I was about to share a secret. “Maybe I prefer men.” Winking at him, I went back to my stack of papers.

The silence stretched between us again, until finally, the papers were graded. I was about to grab my bag when he stopped me again. “If you could, Amara, tomorrow afternoon I’d like you to update my grade book.” I smiled at him across his desk.

“Consider it a date, Coach.” Another wink and I walked out.

Eric was staring at me during lunch with a shrewd eye. “Why do you look like you’re REALLY looking forward to gym class today?” Shit, how had he- “You keep looking at your watch like you’re doing a fucking countdown to the end of lunch.”

“Another day, another X off the days I have to be there,” I tried. Taking a long sip from my drink, and hoping beyond hope that Mary wasn’t as astute or that her attention had been on that huge ass football player she’d had her eye on all month.

She snorted and I knew that my luck wasn’t good. “Sure, Amara, sure.” I looked over to see her eyes gleaming. “You haven’t bitched about good old Coach for weeks. Or sweating. Or any of the other irritating shit you usually bitch about.” She was studying me, and when I glanced at Eric I realized he was too. “Are you hot for teacher?” She made a mock gasp of modesty. “Amara Kendall, are you thinking inappropriate things about Coach Negan?”

I could FEEL Eric’s smile before I even glanced to confirm it. “Oh shit, she’s caught it.” I glared. “You caught the horniness.” I rolled my eyes. “Wow, Amara’s human, who fucking knew?”

“Fuck you.” I hissed, trying to feel more anger than I did. Truth was I was practically bursting with it. And I hadn’t been able to tell anyone. “It’s nothing. I’m just staying after to help him-”

“Count his balls?” Eric offered, snickering. “You did say you do inventory for him after all.”

“Inspecting Coach Negan’s balls-” Mary hummed in appreciation. “Feeling pretty damn jealous, Amara.”

The bell rang and I groaned. “You two make it seem so dirty.”

“If it’s good, it’ll be very fucking dirty,” Eric whispered into my ear as his arm came around my shoulder.

“And wet,” Mary offered from my other side, “otherwise it’ll hurt.”

“You both suck,” I muttered as I pulled away and started for the gym.

“You better too!” was their parting shot and I felt the blush burn my cheeks.

Class went normally. Or as normally as class can go when you’re ignoring the teacher. Or trying desperately to ignore the teacher.

“Amara!” I looked up as a ball came straight for my face. “Keep your eye on the ball!” Fuck. I dodged just in time to not sport a black eye. “Head in the game, people, head in the game!” He was smirking at me like he knew what I was trying to NOT think about.

The game, the class, dragged on. Longest fucking gym class of my life. And as I started for the locker room, he called me over. I tightened my ponytail and jogged to where he was leaning against the wall.

“Yeah, Coach?” I asked, telling myself that I was breathless from the exertion from exercise, not from the scent of him. I bit my lip and looking up I saw his eyes were laser focused on my mouth.

“Still on for this evening?” I nodded, and his hand reached out to swipe my bangs out of my face. “Good, my grade book is feeling pretty fucking neglected.” I smiled up at him. “See you after school.”

“Later, Coach.” I turned and walked toward the locker room. Feeling his eyes on me the entire way.

I was at my locker, listening to the rowdiness of the other students slamming doors and screaming out plans for their evenings. Tugging on the silky fabric of the dress that barely peeked out from under my over-sized sweater. Knee high socks and matching boots completed the look, my hair braided over one shoulder. I sighed, and gave myself a pep talk. It was just updating his grade book. I was CLEARLY reading more into everything than he meant me to. There was NO WAY that Negan looked at me as ANYTHING more than his only upper class student with more brains than brawn.

I almost missed Eric and Mary coming by to offer their see ya laters, or their heavy handed innuendos about my after school activities.

“Remember, don’t be a hero,” Mary offered, tugging on my braid. “Not everyone can deepthroat on their first go.” I glared at her, for fuck’s sake, I wasn’t a damn virgin.

“Don’t glare, it’s good advice.” Eric continued. “We know you’ve fucked, sweetie, but Coach isn’t in the peewee leagues, he’s a MAN.” A wink and a laugh and they were off. Fuckers.

And I’d almost had my nerves under control. But they were in full bloom as I made my way down the once again empty hallways. The gym came first, then the office door, and my hand knocked gently.

“Come in.” I took a deep breath and opened the door. At ease in his desk chair, leaned back reading a magazine, with his feet up I let my breath out. See, I told myself, not interested in me at all. “Wow,” his eyes flicked to me standing framed in the doorway, and I watched him drop the magazine and take in the full vision of me. “Feel like I’m under dressed, Amara.”

I smiled. “Dress for the job you want, right Coach?” I offered, walking into the room further and putting my bag down next to the chair I’d sat in to grade papers. “Grade book?”

“What job do you want, Amara?” His eyes were still on the way my sweater was falling slightly off one shoulder, showing the thin strap of the satin and lace dress I wore underneath. I took my seat and crossed my legs, knowing that my skirt rose a bit higher when I did.

“Why don’t you guess?” I sat back, looking more confident and carefree than my stomach would indicate, I hoped.

I watched Negan bite his lip and drink me in. “Never seen anyone in any job dressed like that, sweetheart.”

“Let’s go with a student for now,” I offered, and his eyes met mine. “Isn’t that what I am?” I shrugged my shoulder, and felt the sweater slip a bit more. His eyes locked on the bared skin and I saw him swallow.

“Yeah,” he breathed and then he snapped himself out of whatever image had been playing in his mind. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a generic grade book. Walking around the desk, he leaned against the edge to open the book. “Pretty standard, but,” I leaned forward to follow his finger as he explained how he liked the grades to be entered. My hand reached out to trace a line and he stilled.

“So you want them to run linear, but you also want the grades to be both numerical and alphabetical.” I glanced up at him and saw that my hand, over the book, was right over where his crotch would be if the book wasn’t in the way. Oh. I bit my lip and he groaned.

“Shit.” He sat fully on the desktop and looked up to the ceiling. Gathering strength? Resolve? “Amara,” he looked down at me and then the grade book was tossed on the desk and my hand was on his thigh. Oops. He swallowed hard. “Honey, do you really want your hand there?”

I studied him. He wasn’t pushing my hand away, he wasn’t disgusted or pissed. He was warning me, but not the type of warning I expected. It made my next move easier. “No,” I whispered up at him. “I think I want my hand here.” I moved and cupped him through his gym shorts. “Is this alright, Coach Negan?”

His eyes rolled back as my hand pressed down a bit harder, feeling how hard he was, and was only getting harder. I licked my lips and slid my hand along the shaft I could feel through his layers. His hand covered mine, but instead of drawing mine away, he helped me find the rhythm he wanted. He swallowed a moan and I smiled up at him. “Keep that up, princess, and we’re not gonna get anything done.”

“Still want that grade book updated, sir?” He couldn’t hold back his moan at that. He really enjoyed that ‘sir’ shit. I licked my lips again. “Hand me the book.” I took my hand away and his hands took my elbows and pulled me from my chair.

“That’s not what’s gonna get done, Amara.” And then his lips met mine and it was me trying to hold back my moans. His tongue flicked against my lips and I opened my mouth for him. One of my hands found his neck, the other was fisted his shirt both holding him to me. He pulled away slightly and I groaned. “You want this, right?” Wait, what?

“Read the room, Coach,” I muttered, and pulled his face back to me. “Do I look like I’m fighting it?” His chuckle vibrated my lips as our mouths met again.

He turned our bodies, so I was sitting on his desk and he was standing between my open knees. “Knees up, Miss Kendall.” He ordered against my mouth and I obliged. His hands slid up my boots to my raised knees, helping to put my feet on the desk. He hummed as his hands continued up my bare thighs, under the satin skirt of my dress, until his fingers hooked into the thread that constituted the waistband of my lace panties. He tried to pull them down, but it was basically a thread, and I giggled as they literally snapped in his fingers. Oops. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to-”

I shook my head, and nipped at his bottom lip. “I have more.” And his mouth left mine, kissing along my jaw, nibbling on my earlobe.

“Good,” he breathed against my ear. “I didn’t mean to, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.” And then his teeth grazed the sensitive skin under my ear and my eyes closed. He kissed down my neck and his fingers, which had gone still after destroying my panties, started to explore my waist, the soft skin of my upper thighs, teasing but not touching where I was internally begging him to. “Seems like you want something, Amara,” his mouth was on my shoulder, bared before he’d even touched me. “Say it, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

“Touch me,” I pleaded, my fingers digging into his shoulders, pushing down, trying without words to show him.

“Where?” His nose was buried between my sweater and satin clothed breasts, breathing in my perfume. “Where, princess, where do you want me to touch you?”

“Everywhere, sir, everywhere.” I breathed, and felt his chuckle vibrate through my sternum. “But first,” my hand left his shoulder and met his under my skirt. “Here,” and pulling his hand to the center of my heat I sighed as the pads of his finger brushed my folds.

“Oh, here?” He asked, pulling back to look into my face, my eyes locked on his. And then, he let his fingers slip through the slick wetness he found with my help. “You’re wet, Amara, so fucking wet.” Between the lips, feeling the dampness grow, he licked his lips. As his thumb brushed my tightly wound bundle of nerves, my hips left the desk. His other hand moved to hold my hips down. “Now, now I didn’t say you could move, sweetheart.” Fuck. He let one long finger slide up and down my slick, and then, watching my face and my expressions, slid slowly inside. My head fell back and I practically growled at the feeling. Fuck, a finger, and I was ready to go insane. I wouldn’t fucking survive his actual dick. “How’s that feel, Amara?”

I tried rocking my hips, I tried rolling closer. His hand holding me still was like a vise. Fuck. “Not enough, that’s how it feels, Coach. Like it’s NOT enough.” I bit down on my lip as he added another finger, still not moving once I was impaled by both. Fucking tease. “Is this a fucking punishment for something?” I begged, trying once again to move my hips, to force him to move.

“Oh, sweetheart, when I punish you, you’ll fucking know it.” Shit, I just got- “You like that don’t you, princess? The idea of me punishing you.” I felt my walls clamp down on his fingers and so did he. “We’ll have to talk about that later,” he leaned forward and licked back into my mouth. “I want to taste you, Amara,” he breathed into my mouth.

And he did. He feasted on me. He used those fingers of his, and that mouth on him, to make me a shaking, moaning mess on his desk. And then, once he felt he’d had his fill of me, he stood up and helped me take off my sweater, sliding his hands over the satin of my dress before tugging it over my head and tossing it on the chair with my sweater. The bra was gone before I could contemplate it, and then, I was pulling his shirt off his body, tugging down his shorts and without any more preamble, he was thrust deep inside of me. My feet still on the desk, my knees high, my legs open, and his hands on my hips controlling the rhythm.

My hands were back on his shoulders, my mouth and tongue tasting the skin of his chest, finding tattoos I wouldn’t have known about in ordinary circumstances, but then his hips moved and I whimpered. “Is that the spot, Amara?” He growled, hitting it again and again, as I arched my hips a bit higher, trying to find friction and purchase. “That’s it, isn’t it, sweetheart?” And then again, and I was pleading by offering him his name over and over. “Come on, princess, come on.”

And it happened. Like a freight train rushing through me, I came, biting his shoulder so I wouldn’t scream and felt his thrusting stutter as my clamping and tightening body forced him over too. We were shaking and breathing hard, but he didn’t pull away. He kept holding me, his fingers sliding over my bare skin as he grew limp inside of me. His lips kissing my forehead when I pulled away from his chest to look up at him. Our bodies were slick with sweat, a sweat that I would gladly wear again and again. Our lips met, and I smiled into his kiss.

When we pulled back, his forehead pressed against mine, I had to laugh when he said, “now about that grade book.”


	2. I Lied, Clearly...Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, who precisely would be happy with a one off with Negan? Seriously, raise your hands then sit the fuck down cause you're lying. 
> 
> Amara's semester is over, but her and Negan? Not so much...

“He’s watching you,” Mary whispered, as I looked at her in confusion. “Coach Negan has been eye fucking you ever since he walked into the cafeteria.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re fucking insane.” I let my eyes fall back to the book in my hand. “He’s not looking at me, and if he is, then it’s probably because the random thought of ‘oh shit, have I done inventory lately’ popped into his head.” Eric snickered from beside me. I took a drink from my bottle of water and pretended I was reading. He was staring at me. I could feel it across the crowded room. I just couldn’t acknowledge it. Even though I’m eighteen and technically an adult, he’s still a fucking teacher. And married. A flash of guilt gnawed in my stomach. I couldn’t think of her, his wife.

“If this is insanity, than fuck if I don’t want a dose of what you’re having.” Eric muttered, and then I felt him. Behind me, the musky scent of him, his heat. Fuck.

“Miss Kendall.” That fucking voice of his. It didn’t help that I knew exactly how deep it could get, and just how hot he could sound moaning my name. I licked my lips and felt his hand touch my shoulder.

“Yeah, Coach.” I was happy to hear my voice both steady and not breathless. I looked up at him over my shoulder and smiled. “Is there a problem?”

His eyes were dark. A darkness I was learning very well. “Not a problem, Miss Kendall, a reminder.” I swallowed as he pulled his hand back. “You promised to give me a hand,” I heard Eric snicker again and closed my eyes. “With grading.” I nodded and bit my lip.

“Of course,” I took a deep breath. “I have a free period after lunch.” It was the second semester and I didn’t have his class anymore. The free period was actually an independent study that I was doing, but what’s the point of it if I couldn’t be independent?

Negan smiled down at me. “See you then.” He nodded a parting to my now silent best friends and walked away. I turned back to my book.

“Tell me he’s bent you over his desk and spanked you until you couldn’t sit down comfortably.” Eric practically moaned. “Please throw me that one fucking bone, bitch.”

I shook my head and ignored him. “Come on, Eric,” Mary said, her eye roll evident in her tone. “We’re talking about PERFECT Amara Kendall here. What would Coach Negan have to spank her over?”

“Mary, Mary, Mary,” Eric sounded completely bored with that line. “Remember that Amara fucking Kendall had to retake PE because of her fucking mouth. Wait, has he fucked your mouth?” Damn it. The insatiable curiosity of these two assholes would kill me.

I shook my head and continued to ignore them. “She’s not talking, Eric. Quiet as a fucking tomb.” Mary sounded so put out that I nearly giggled. Nearly. “Unlike us, her BEST FRIENDS, she doesn’t share. Shouldn’t surprise us, I guess, she never shared in kindergarten either.”

That did it. I laughed. “You are such thirsty fucking whores.” I shook my head and sat down my book. “Kindergarten? Really?” I rolled my eyes. “You’re never gonna forgive me for that fucking Barbie doll are you?”

“It was Ken, bitch, and you wouldn’t share him so I could reenact all my debased ideas.” She was glaring at me and Eric as we laughed. “I had such creativity and it was STARVED because you wouldn’t share.”

“I saved you from being forced into therapy, you twisted asshole.” I was shaking with laughter. “Seriously, what five year old acts out that kind of shit in kindergarten?”

“A creative one,” Eric snickered. “Creative and had too much access to Skinamax.”

We were all laughing now. Fuck, I loved the two idiots. But I couldn’t share what Negan and I were doing. They knew something happened, but he was STILL a fucking teacher. And I wasn’t going to lose him his job. “You know I want to share, but-” I sighed. “The less you know, the less you could be asked.”

“Do you honestly think that anyone would question us?” Eric scoffed. “You’re an adult, Amara. No one cares.”

“Well, the board might,” Mary shrugged. “What?” Eric had shot her a look. “It’s true. She has a point. He’s a teacher, not HER teacher, but he’s still a teacher.” She took my hand. “Sorry, we’ve been pushing for info, Amara. I think I get it now.” I squeezed her hand. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop giving you shit, but I won’t ask for details.” I rolled my eyes.

“Fine, yeah, me too.” Eric begrudgingly agreed. “But the SECOND we get our fucking diplomas, I want GRAPHIC fucking details. Videos if you have them.”

I walked to the gym after lunch and grinned as I watched Negan bark out orders to the class. “I’m leaving you all to your own devices, but I swear to Christ if I hear a 'Lord of the Flies' situation going down, I will shut that shit down immediately. Understood?” A round of agreement and he motioned for them to grab the equipment of their choosing.

“Miss Kendall.” He greeted me as I made my way through his students. “Let’s go into my office and we’ll get started with that stack of papers to grade.”

The door had barely shut behind him when I turned and met his arms and mouth. Groaning into one another’s searching hands and ravenous mouths, I felt his hands sliding down my back to pull up my skirt over my hips. His fingers met lace and his teeth nipped at my lip. And then the panties met the same fate that each and every pair before them had, luckily I found a place to buy in bulk.

My hands were tugging down the elastic of his shorts, and then as though Eric had wished it, I was bent over the desk. But instead of a spanking, I was getting something better. He slid inside of me fully and then his hand was wrapped around my throat and pulling me back into his chest. Fuck. As we moved together, my head turning to search for his mouth and him anticipating my want and meeting me, I felt that build. The one that had become as natural as breathing to me. The climb toward an orgasm with Negan pounding into me with an expertise that only he had.

Roaring through both of us, I fell forward on the desk with a quiet chuckle as he followed me, his body over top of my own, always so hesitant to pull away. Pull out before he had to, he was completely against that. He wanted to feel me, for as long as we could stay joined, and I loved it. His weight against me, front or back, the feeling of him slowly leaving me. Hell even the mess that he left behind, until both of us could stand and our breaths weren’t pants any longer. Then he’d wipe me clean, kissing my knees or my thigh and smile up at me.

“I’m getting used to this, Amara.” He said, once I was clean and my skirt was down, panties replaced with a spare pair I kept in my bag. “You, this.” He had replaced his own clothes and was sitting in his desk chair. “Fuck if I’m not gonna miss you next year.”

I sighed, and sat on his lap. Letting my head find the crook of his shoulder, I played with the buttons on his polo shirt. “I’m not going far, Negan.” I offered, we’d been having this conversation a lot lately. “Besides,” I swallowed, not wanting to remind him or me of HER. “Maybe it’s for the best.” I offered instead. “I leave, your life gets back to normal.”

He chuckled into my hair. “Normal?” I felt him inhale deeply. “What the fuck is normal, princess?” I didn’t actually think he was asking me, so I didn’t answer. “Still gonna fucking miss you.”

I smiled, and tilted my head up so I could look into his face. “I’ll miss you too, Coach.” I winked and he grinned. “Now, are there actual tests to grade, or was this an elaborate farce to get me alone and at your mercy?”

He laughed and opened a drawer filled with paper. “There’s always shit to grade, Amara, you know that.” And then he let me up, and left the office so I could grade his papers while he went back to teaching. I wondered, pulling a red pen out of his drawer, would he really miss me? Or was I just the latest in a long line of students that he’d done this with before?

“Amara!” I heard a loud male voice yell as I was leaving the school at the end of the day. Looking around I found the source. Joe Malberry. Captain of the wrestling team. I’d gone out on two dates with Joe, he’d asked me to Homecoming and I turned him down. I waited until he caught up with me, wondering what he could possibly want now.

“Hey, Joe.” I smiled up at him. He was broad. In his shoulders and everywhere else. Trust me, I knew. “What’s up?”

He was smiling down at me. His huge body blocked the sun effectively. ‘Hey, Amara, I was wondering, do you have a date yet for the Spring formal?” Ugh, this again. But I stopped myself from a fast no. Why shouldn’t I go to at least a few dances my final year?

“When is it again?” I hadn’t paid any attention to the notices.

“Two weeks from Friday.” He offered, his smile deepening at my interest.

“Sure.” I answered, nodding. “Why not?”

He hugged me and twirled me around making me laugh. “Fucking awesome.” He set me back on my feet and grinned. “Just tell me the color of your dress and I’ll pick out your corsage and make sure we don’t clash.” Shit, he was excited.

“Absolutely, Joe.” I smiled and walked away after promising him to give him details he needed and plans to call him to hash out the plans. I was almost in my car when I felt it. Someone’s eyes on me, and looking up I saw Negan staring a hole into me from outside the gym. Shit.

Maybe I wasn’t such an adult. If I was, then I probably would have gone over to Negan and discussed what he must have witnessed between Joe and me. I would have just admitted that going to the dance sounded mildly fun. That Joe was a good guy and maybe, if I was feeling particularly brave, I’d admit that Joe and I had, once upon a time, screwed like rabbits.

Or, I could drive the fuck home and pretend he hadn’t seen or had that look on his face. I could force down dinner. I could fake my way through homework. I could take a LONG hot bath and then open up my laptop to look at formal dresses to get an idea of what I wanted to wear. And hairstyles. And shoes. Anything other than looking at my cell phone that had been dinging text message alerts since I drove away.

I knew it was him. It had to be. We’d promised the cell phone was an emergency only thing, but how many times had we broken that rule? And to Negan, this might actually constitute an emergency. Maybe. But I wasn’t nearly ready to look and see what he might be saying or texting. Not yet. I was a coward.

I was printing off a few hairstyle ideas when my phone rang. OK that wasn’t him. He NEVER called. He couldn’t. Not from home. Not where she was.

I tapped the answer button without looking down. “Hello?” I was still clicking through websites and came up short when I heard his voice. Shit.

“Miss Kendall?” Fuck. “I think we’re gonna have to discuss your performance today, privately.”

Fuck, shit, fuck. “Coach, I can explain.” I tried, but he stopped me from continuing.

“Which may have worked if you came to me today, Miss Kendall.” And hadn’t ignored my texts, I heard the unspoken irritation. “I expect you in my office first thing in the morning. Be prepared for-” I waited, swallowing hard. “Just be prepared, Miss Kendall.”

Damn it. He hung up before I could say another word. Which forced me to look at his texts.

**Amara, what the fuck?**

**Young lady, answer me.**

**Amara, you need to explain what I fucking witnessed earlier.**

**Damn it, answer me, Amara.**

**If I don’t get an answer in the next ten fucking minutes, you’re gonna wish you had.**

That was the last one. Shit. I should have fucking answered. I should have BRBd him or TTYLd. Something, anything, cause I had a fucking feeling that Eric would be getting a very clear graphic of his fantasy when I couldn’t sit down all day tomorrow.

I had trouble sleeping. I had trouble waking up. I had a shit ton of trouble getting out of bed and facing the day ahead. I was screwed. And not in any of the most enjoyable ways. I bit my lip and considered how to divert him from the very clear aggravation that he was feeling. First, armor.

I got up, reluctantly, but determined. Pulling a pair of the tightest jeans I owned from a drawer, a pair of silky boy short panties, and a strappy sports bra, I had a flash of brilliance. Stepping out of my bedroom, I yelled down the hallway for my dad.

Mom’s head popped out of their bedroom, half her face made up the other still a work in progress. “He’s already left for the day, Mara.” She offered, taking in my unusual outfit. “What did you need?”

“A sports jersey.” I said, walking toward her. “It’s dress up day at school, you know senior shenanigans.” She was giving me a look of wonder. Shit, why didn’t I play nice at school more with the stupidity. “Doesn’t Dad have a few from when he goes out with the guys?” My dad liked to pretend now and then that he liked silly things like sports.

She nodded, still looking at me like I’d been a victim of a body snatching. “Yeah, come in and go to the far back of his closet.” She sat down at her vanity and glanced at me as I made my way to his closet. “Those jeans, honey, are they-”

“Decent?” I asked, with a snicker. “Sure. If you squint past the painted on fabric and strategic tears.” I was flicking through Dad’s clothes until I spotted it. Baseball jersey for the win. And since it buttoned, I could, once I left the house, unbutton it and show off the very nice and very fetching sports bra I was wearing. “Thanks, Mom.” I offered, dropping a quick kiss on her cheek as I bounced out of her room.

“Amara, do take a change of clothes, just in case.” I rolled my eyes. And my friends wondered why I was the way I was.

“Absolutely, Mom.” I agreed, and went back to my room to finish getting ready.

Hair up in a high ponytail. A pair of blinding white chucks on my feet. Baseball cap I found in the hall closet tucked in my bag. An extra outfit on a hanger, just so my mom wouldn’t lose her shit. And then I was out the door. Early, way earlier than anyone should ever willingly show up at their school, but I was there.

I parked my car and pulled my bag out. Pulling the cap on my head and pulling my ponytail through the hole, I took a deep breath to prepare myself. If nothing else, the fact that I was wearing jeans and a jersey should throw him off his game. And if Negan was off his game, then maybe I could explain myself before I had anything to really worry about. Right? Sure, I promised myself. Negan could be reasonable. He WAS reasonable.

I walked through the empty hallways, the quiet feeling far more surreal and foreboding than any other time before. The silence stretched out before me, my shoes’ soles too soft to even give me the comfort of my own footfalls. I reached the gym before I was ready. Truthfully would I ever be ready to reach him? Nope.

His office door was closed and I almost thought I beat him to the school, but I saw the sliver of light peeking out and nearly groaned. Fuck. I took a moment to give myself a pep talk. Negan was an adult. He just didn’t know how to categorize what he’d seen between me and Joe. Once I explained, leaving out that we’d had sex, he’d be fine. He expected me to do normal senior things. Hadn’t he asked me about Homecoming and Prom? He understood that this was normal. He just didn’t like that I hadn’t told him about it. Calmer, I knocked and heard him tell me to come in.

“Miss Kendall.” He greeted me and my stomach did a flip. Shit he was really truly pissed. “Close the door.” Damn it.

I complied, and when I turned around I felt another flip in my stomach and thanked God I hadn’t had breakfast. Lying in the middle of his desk was the paddle that our principal always referred to as “Spanky” and lovingly reminded us of the day when it was used to hand out the real punishment. Fuck.

“Interesting outfit, Miss Kendall.” Good he’d noticed. “You don’t usually wear jeans. Especially jeans that look like they’ve been painted on.” Fuck. He didn’t sound diverted. He sounded irritated. Shit. “Gonna make the next few minutes take longer than they should, but trust me, they’re gonna happen.” Shit, fuck, shit.

“Negan.” His eyes flashed to mine. OK, nope. “Coach Negan.” I corrected and when he didn’t move I felt comfortable to go on. “Look, I know what you saw yesterday could be interpreted a few ways, but it’s not what you think.” I don’t think, anyway, I added in my head. “Joe was just asking-”

He stood up and I squeaked. Like a mouse. Shit. “What, Miss Kendall, did good ol Joe ask?” Fuck.

I swallowed down another squeak. “He asked me to the spring formal.” I rushed out, he was studying me. “I accepted.” That came out more or less as a breath.

“The spring formal?” Why did he sound so fucking dangerous repeating me? I nodded. “And you said yes?” Another nod. “But you couldn’t take five fucking seconds out of your day to pick up the fucking phone and tell me that?” Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“I just-” What? I tried to ask myself. What didn’t I just? “I didn’t want to-”

Negan had come closer as I was struggling to find words to explain something I didn’t quite understand myself. “You didn’t want to what, Amara?” He was so close I could feel his body heat. “Tell me you were ready to play high school senior? To tell me that you wanted to play in the kiddie pool after telling me that you didn’t want a ‘boy’?” All my words, all coming back to haunt me. Shit.

“It’s not like that, Negan.” I offered, looking up at him. “I just thought, maybe, one fucking dance-”

“You wanted to go to a dance?” He sounded like a broken record, spitting back my words with various levels of disbelief. “With the captain of the wrestling team?” Damn it, I knew he’d get to that part. “Didn’t you turn down good ol Joe at Homecoming?”

“Yes,” I answered, waiting for the next onslaught.

He nodded, and bit his lip. “Why would good ol Joe be willing to risk another possible rejection?” He was studying me again, and I know he saw the faint blush that hit me. “Ah, so good ol Joe was rejected for the dance, but NOT for the DANCE.”

I fought rolling my eyes. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fucking adult here? “Does that matter?”

“Yes, Miss Kendall, it fucking matters.” His eyes were blazing on mine. “It matters because you’re gonna go to a fucking dance with a guy who WILL expect a repeat of that early performance. It matters because NOW I’m gonna have to fucking go to a fucking high school dance and chaperone it. It matters because I’m gonna fucking brain his stupid ass if he fucking puts his hand lower than your upper back.”

“Negan,” I felt my eyes widening. “You can’t.” He was glaring down at me. “You can’t do any of that. You’ll lose your fucking job.”

“And whose fault is that, princess?” Shit, the heart of the matter. “Take off that ball cap.” I tugged it off and tossed it onto the chair. “Now, unbutton those ridiculous fucking jeans and bend over that desk.” Damn it, fucking Eric’s wet dream for the win. I unsnapped the button and unzipped the zipper.

“Should I-” I started but he shook his head. OK. I leaned over the desktop.

“Face down,” the coolness of the metal touched my cheek. I felt his hands on my waist, and then his fingers on the waistband of my jeans. He began tugging them down, muttering at how tight they were as he worked. “If you fucking thought wearing these fucking pants was going to somehow fucking deter your punishment, sweetheart, I think you’re gonna be fucking upset. Cause it’s increasing the fucking shit, right now.” Fuck. “What the fuck are these?” Oh, the boy shorts. “Princess, where the fuck did you get these fucking things?” His fingers snapped the elastic silk of the panties.

“I don’t know, some store.” I truly had no fucking clue. They were basically toss away period pants if I had to be honest.

“They’re ridiculous too.” He was irritated and only getting more so as he tugged and pulled the jeans down. “These fucking things should be in the goddamn trash. If I didn’t want to murder anyone who might see your naked ass, I’d rip the fuckers off and toss them myself.” Don’t tell him you have a spare set of clothes, don’t tell him, even if that sounded hot as fuck.

I bit my lip when his hands and my jeans and panties met my ankles. The light air against my naked bottom half felt weird, and weirder still when he tossed my dad’s jersey out of his way. “Where the fuck did you get this?” Shit, wasn’t he just fucking curious all over this morning.

“It’s my dad’s.” I answered, and he grunted. “Should I chuck it in the fire, too?”

“Sir.” He corrected. Shit. He was serious.

“Sir?” I asked, hoping that he wasn’t going to go full on Eric’s greatest wet dream ever on me.

“That’s right, Amara. Sir.” I nodded my understanding. “You understand that you asked for this, don’t you, princess?” I nodded again. “Words, Amara.”

“Yes, sir.” I answered, and felt myself get a bit damper. Shit. “I asked for this because I didn’t answer you yesterday, sir.” Fuck if this wasn’t the best fucking bad thing I’d ever done.

“Good girl.” Shit, my stomach clenched at the praise. “Now, since it’s your first infraction, I’m not gonna go too hard on you, but remember this, princess, so you don’t have to experience it again.” Yeah, right.

Spanky the paddle was right beside me, but he didn’t pick it up. Instead, I felt his hand smooth down the skin of my ass and bit my lip. Guess old Spanky was just a fucking prop, I thought, right as Negan brought his hand down full force on my ass. Fuck. I nearly jumped off the desk from the sting. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Count, princess, you’re getting fifteen.” Fuck was that his favorite fucking number?

“One, sir.” Fuck fuck fuck. And then another smack. And I counted. Each and every fucking one, from one to fifteen. Shit. I could feel the sting and burn. I knew that those fucking jeans were going to constitute as more fucking torture. I was also so wet that all I could possibly wish to take my mind off the literal flames of my burning skin was for Negan to bury himself deep inside of me and take care of my other pain.

“Pull up your pants, Amara.” WHAT? I shot him a look of disbelief over my shoulder. “It’s a punishment, princess.”

No fucking shit. Fuck. I stood carefully and bent over to grab my panties. Shit, this was gonna suck. I took my sweet time tugging the thin silky fabric over my burning ass. OUCH. I let them settle on my no doubt flaming red skin, then reached down for the jeans. This took far more time. More time than it took him to get them down my legs. More time that it took to put them on earlier at my house. I bit my lip and closed my eyes as the denim brushed my ass, even with the slight barrier of those fucking boy short panties. OUCH. Damn it. Once they were up, I buttoned them and zipped up.

When I turned to face Negan, I realized I wasn’t the only one who had enjoyed at least part of my punishment. Without waiting for instruction, I carefully got to my knees. What the hell, why not go full throttle submission? Looking up at him, I tugged his track pants down his hips and careful of his obvious need, I settled them on top of his shoes around his ankles. I watched his face as I rose up higher onto my knees and licked his hard shaft from tip to bottom. Nothing, just watched me. No words, no touch. Just his eyes on me. Well shit. Opening my mouth, I took him inside, using my tongue and then adding my hand for good measure.

Finally after the fourth bob of my head, I felt it. His hips thrusting ever so slightly forward. I worked harder and was rewarded by his hands sliding under my ponytail. And as he finally got into the swing of things, so to speak, his fucking mouth kicked into gear.

“That’s right, princess, take my cock, just fucking like that.” He pushed a bit too far and I gagged, again thankful that I’d had no breakfast. “Take it, sweetheart, take it.” And I swallowed my saliva and him, by fucking accident. Shit. “Oh fuck,” he moaned, and then, like I wasn’t entirely prepared for, he came. Down my fucking throat. That he was down because of a fucking accident.

It was swallow or choke so swallow I did. He started to go limp, but I waited, just as I always did when we finished having sex. And, just like during our normal fuckings, he helped me up and cleaned me up. My face this time. Tugging on my ponytail, he smiled down at me.

“Do you still want to go to the fucking dance?” He asked, but the heat of his anger was almost gone from his voice.

“Yeah, I do.” I answered, leaning against the desk and then hissing at the feeling of burning pain. Shit. “Damn it.” He grinned at me. Oh, sure, you can sit down, fucker.

His fingers brushed my errant bangs away. “Fine.” Was that permission? “I’ll go let Turtle Jones know I’m in for fucking chaperone duty.” Shit was he serious?

“Negan,” I began, but he brushed his lips against mine.

He shook his head when he pulled away. “This is non-negotiable, Amara. You go, I go.” Shit, fuck, shit. “Now get going, class is starting in ten minutes.” Shit. I grabbed my bag and the cap, and as I moved to pass him, he swatted me on my ass. FUCK. “Have a good day, princess.” OUCH.


	3. Here We Go Again...You People Should Know Me Better Than That...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara and Negan. Am I right? Yeah, probably not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never mention Negan's wife by name in this. It took this chapter to realize that THIS wife isn't his LUCILLE. Her name may be the same, but she isn't HER. Negan is Negan, but this is a world that's different. I didn't mean for it to be, but you know, sometimes a story takes on a life of its own. This one did. 
> 
> Now, this MIGHT actually be the last chapter. Maybe. Unless I feel like sharing a little more. College life with Amara? What happens next? Right now I got nothing, but who knows?

Walking was simple. Easy even. Standing AWESOME. Standing was absolutely fabulous. Leaning, only if I leaned with my BACK, not my hips or ass. Because that would make me hiss in pain. I know because it happened in Negan’s office and it made a lasting impression. Sitting? NO. Sitting was NO. I can’t sit. Not like a normal human being. I was tender and sore and HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

“Damn it, Eric, what the literal fuck?” I growled at my former best friend who’d given my ass a pat.

His eyes widened. “Holy shit.” He looked down at my still inappropriately dressed ass and grinned. “He fucking spanked you. He fucking TORE your ass up, didn’t he?” He wasn’t screaming, and for that he didn’t die.

“Shut the fuck up, Eric.” I managed to say through clenched teeth as I breathed through the fire of pain that flared up when his hand had patted my sensitive skin. Fuck.

“Why?” He was looking far too gleeful and far too interested. I pulled my books from my locker and looked at the messenger bag with loathing. It was going to fucking bounce off my fucking hips, I knew it. “Why did he spank you, Amara?” He was going with a sing-song tone. Damn it.

I glared at him and then, because life isn’t a fucking joke already, Mary joined us. “Why do you two look like you’re conspiring?” She looked between the two of us. “OK, you,” she pointed at Eric, “look too fucking happy about something. And you,” her finger turned to me, “look like you’re gonna shank Happy Gilmore over here.”

“He spanked her.” Eric taunted, eyes glittering with glee. “The way she hissed when I barely fucking brushed her ass, I’d say she’s rosy red under those fucking indecent jeans.”

“The fuck is going on with those?” Mary’s eyes took in my outfit. “In fact,” she was snickering. “What the high holy shit is up with that entire fucking ensemble?”

Ugh, why me? “I was trying to keep-” I closed my eyes and leaned against the lockers behind me, which nearly made me fucking scream out loud. FUCK. I hissed and yanked myself off of the metal. “Shit.” I groaned. “How the fuck am I gonna get out of sitting down all day?” I asked the two of them. They were sharing a look. I rolled my eyes. “WHAT?”

“Why were you spanked, Amara?” Mary asked, smirking. “Come on, tell us, and we’ll brainstorm your issue, promise.”

“Joe asked me to the spring formal.” I muttered. They were staring at me waiting. Sighing I went on. “Someone witnessed my acceptance. Joe got handsy-ish.” Eric sucked air through his teeth. “And I might have ignored his texts asking for clarification about what he witnessed.”

“Holy shit.” Mary breathed. “Jealous much?” She was barely containing her own glee at my predicament. “Spanking? Anything else?”

“Nothing you need to know about.” Yes, my lover likes to be dominant, he refuses to give me sex when I’m being punished, and right now I can’t fucking sit down and I’m so fucking horny I want to die. “Now, help me with a way to explain that I can’t fucking sit down.”

The day DRUG by so slowly that I wanted to fucking die. Between the looks my outfit got, a cross between admiration and fucking confusion, and the really confused looks the teachers gave me when I told them that I’d slipped and fell in the shower and my entire backside was bruised beyond repair.

“No, Mrs. Allison, I’ll be fine.” I was gritting my teeth through my last class. “I’m fine standing here taking notes. Honestly.” I rolled my eyes when she walked away, shifting my weight from one leg to the other.

By the time I headed for my car, I realized I hadn’t changed out of my damn clothes into Mom’s requested more suitable outfit. Fuck. Shit. My legs hurt almost as much as my ass did, and I had few options. Grabbing the spare outfit, I walked back in without my bag, but with my cell in my pocket. I felt the buzz as I reentered the building. Groaning, I pulled it out and looked at the text.

**You left yet?**

I bit my lip and smiled. Typing a negative back, I walked toward the gym. Another buzz.

**Come say goodbye.**

I was outside his office before the phone made it back into my pocket. A soft knock, an invitation and there he was.

“How are you feeling, princess?” He looked almost abashed.

“Tired,” I tossed my extra outfit on the chair that my ass still couldn’t sit on comfortably. “I stood all day. Stood and occasionally leaned, but only on my back.” He was biting his lip, and while he looked almost ashamed, he seemed to be fighting laughter. “How are you, SIR?” It was fully snarky and it broke him. His laughter rolled out and I bit my lip to stop my own giggle.

“I’m better now.” He stood up and opened his arms. I leaned forward and rubbed my face against his shirt. “Sorry your ass is so sore.”

“No you aren’t.” I muttered, grinning into the cotton. “You loved every single smack, you asshole.” I tilted my head back and was rewarded with a long, slow kiss. “At least I get that.”

He chuckled and kissed me again. Pulling back, he glanced at the clothes on the chair. “What’s that?”

“Spare clothes.” I answered. “Mom insisted when she took in this outfit.” I felt his arms tighten around me. “You’ve shown more fucking interest in my clothes today than you ever have.”

His laughter vibrated through me. “Yeah, I may have been focused on a goal, sweetheart.” I felt his lips touch my hair. “If you had that outfit on hand, why didn’t you tell me?”

Oh, right. “Because, Negan, as hot as fuck the thought of you tearing my clothes apart literally, I thought I should reign you in a bit.”

“See, now I wanna do it more.” His eyes were locked on mine and I felt my stomach flip again. “Hot as fuck? Oh, princess.” And then, I forgot all about the pain of my ass, because the jeans were in tatters, the panties? History. And then he was inside of me and my back was against the door and our lips were on one another’s. Fuck, thank fucking God. “Shit, I needed to feel you wrapped around me.” My legs were around his waist as his hands cupped my legs and he pounded into me. “That’s right, Amara, tilt just fucking like that.” And then, he used his mouth to keep the screams of my orgasm from waking the fucking dead. “Jesus,” he breathed, ripping his mouth away from mine as he kept thrusting. “You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart. So fucking, fuck.” His thrusts were focused, his words another level of fucking hot, and then as his lips found the crook of my neck we both went over again.

He held me up, my back still pressed against the door, his head still buried in my shoulder as we both came back down. “Is it always like this?” I breathed. I needed to know. Was this just par for the course for him? Did he feel this ALL the fucking time with every woman he had sex with?

I felt him kissing my skin. “No.” He muttered into my skin. “It’s not always like this, Amara.” He let my legs slide down. When his eyes met mine I tried to decode whatever it was that he wasn’t saying. Nothing came to me.

He cleaned me up, like always, and then watched as I pulled on my spare outfit. Another dress, one that went with my chucks. I was tugging it down over my bare ass, since panties just weren’t in the cards when I looked up at him. “What?”

“Are you being safe?” Safe? Oh, I chuckled. Poor man.

“Isn’t it a wee bit late for that question, Coach?” I asked, tightening my ponytail and pulling on my dad’s jersey. His eyes were still on me. For fuck’s sake. “Yes, I’m being safe, Negan.” I rolled my eyes. “Where’s my phone?” He picked it up from the tatters of what used to be my jeans. “Thanks.” He was still staring at me. “What?”

He swallowed hard. “Amara,” he sighed, and ran his hand down his face and my heart stopped beating. Shit, was he gonna-what? Break up with me? “Sweetheart,” and I knew, I felt it in my bones that he wanted to end it. Us.

I smiled. “It’s fine.” I nodded, taking my phone and moving toward the door. “We both knew this wasn’t permanent, Negan.” I opened the door, and didn’t turn to face him when I gave the final shot. “After all, I’m just a school girl.”

I threw myself into planning for my first formal of my senior year. I spent more time with Joe than I probably should have. I ignored the clear questions in Mary and Eric’s eyes and faces. I wasn’t going to play the hurt girl. The one whose heart broke over a fling. That’s all it had been. A fling. A bucket list item crossed off.

Two weeks flew by. Mary and Eric came to my house to get ready, like early years in high school and before. I was putting on my makeup while they were discussing the likelihood of getting lucky with their respective dates. I rolled my eyes, taking in the deliberately careless braided updo I’d chosen. The dress, something that looked a bit like lingerie, but also flared at the hips. A pale blue, that looked icy and yet spring-like all the same. The strappy heels, not too high, but also not too fucking low.

“Hey, honey,” my mom said, coming in the door. “This came for you earlier and I forgot.” She had a box in her hand. “Guess you ordered it?”

I shrugged and took it from her. Unwrapping the packing paper, I opened the slender box and found a rhinestone choker with a longer draped string of rhinestones and matching earring studs. I hadn’t ordered it. I’d never seen the set before in my life.

“It’s pretty,” my mom offered, as she walked out. “It’ll match your dress beautifully.”

She was out the door and Eric closed it behind her. “You didn’t order that, did you?” He asked, reading the confusion on my face.

“No.” I pulled the set out and a slip of paper dropped to the floor. Mary picked it up and unfolded it.

“Shit.” She breathed. I looked up and saw that Eric was reading it over her shoulder.

“What?” I asked, with a roll of my eyes. Turning back to my mirror, I dapped at my eye make up.

“It’s from him.” Eric offered, and I looked up to catch him watching me in the mirror. Him. Oh.

I smiled and unhooked the earrings. “Probably bought them before-” My smile faded. He couldn’t have bought them before we split. He only found out that day and unless he ordered them online in the library, he couldn’t have. I shook it off. “He just feels bad.” I put the earrings in and gestured toward the two necklaces. “Could one of you-”

Eric stepped up, putting the paper beside my hand on the vanity. He put the draping strand on first, then hooked the choker. “There,” he smiled down at me. “Perfect, as always, Amara.” A wink and then he and Mary tried their damnedest to recapture the carefree mood of earlier.

I ignored the paper. Not tonight. Not now. Later.

Spring Formal. Not quite the prom. Not homecoming. Just a random formal in the beginning of spring. Joe had showed up not long after the necklace set had found me. Along with the guys that Eric and Mary had for dates, we all piled into one of their cars and headed out after my parents forced us to pose for pictures.

Joe and I were pressed tight together, he was so damn broad that it couldn’t be helped. He kept smiling down at me, telling me how pretty I looked, and I was fairly certain that he’d had a little bit of liquid courage. It didn’t take long to reach the school. It didn’t take long for me to look around and feel like I was transported straight into ‘Carrie’.

“Jesus,” I breathed, looking around at, I shit you not, crepe paper.

“Let’s dance.” Joe said, or shouted since the DJ went with the idea that louder is better. I nodded and we were on the dance floor.

Why would anyone think that slow songs should be played so loud that the floor vibrated? But here we were, in the gym, a flash of pain hit my stomach at the reminder, with the floor vibrating from a SLOW song. Joe’s arms were around me, his hands clammy against my bare back, and my head was pressed into his shoulder.

Luckily, I thought, as Joe swayed me from side to side sort of to the rhythm of the pounding song, Negan would have been able to get out of chaperone duty and wouldn’t have to witness this nightmare. No sooner had the thought passed through my mind than I thought I could feel his eyes on me. Wishful thinking, I told myself, letting my cheek meet Joe’s shoulder. Eric was beside me with his date, but his eyes were locked on something in the distance. I rolled my eyes. Another hot guy, no doubt, the boy was a fucking thirsty slut. And then his eyes met mine and I felt my stomach flip. Shit, come on. No.

“Negan,” he mouthed and I took a deep breath. Why? Why tonight?

I calmed myself with the belief that he hadn’t been able to beg off chaperone duty. His presence had nothing to do with me. Why would it? He and I were done.

Joe and I went through the motions of a couple more dances and then he asked if I wanted some punch. “Sure,” I nodded, and Eric’s guy went off with him.

“Hey,” Eric was beside me. “You OK?”

I snorted. “Aside from the ear bursting level of the music, the fact that my date is halfway drunk, and we’re surrounded by fucking crepe paper? I’m peachy.” His hand took mine and I linked our fingers. Like we’d been holding hands since pre-school. “It’s fine, Eric, I’m fine.” I felt like everyone was watching me for a crack. Or at least him and Mary. “It’s not like we could have been MORE.” I was watching Mary and her date laughing as they danced wildly. “He’s married for fuck’s sake.”

“Didn’t read the letter?” He asked, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. I shook my head. “Probably should have.” He reached for his cup of punch when his date came back, but Joe wasn't with him.

“Where-” Eric’s date looked embarrassed. “Did Joe leave?”

“No,” the guy gave me a look of discomfort. “Coach wanted to have a word with him.” Shit.

“Where did they go?” I asked, as Eric shot me a horrified look. “Where?”

I was in the hallway, heading toward the library, cursing my fucking luck. Of course, why not? Why wouldn’t the married teacher that I’d screwed come and chaperone the ONE fucking dance I chose to go to? Why wouldn’t he take notice that my date was less than sober? Of course he was ONLY acting in the school’s best interest.

I was thanking heaven that our school wasn’t one of those multi building nightmares and that I’d chosen reasonable sized heels, as I rounded the corner and came to a halt outside the library open doors. I could hear Negan’s deep voice, but only just. We were too far away from the gym for the music to be the issue, so I had to assume that he was keeping his voice down on purpose.

“I cannot believe that you’d fucking pull this,” he was in Joe’s face, the big broad back of my date the only part I could see as I walked through the doorway. “You’d risk your future, you’d risk AMARA’S safety by showing up reeking of fucking booze?” Shit.

“Coach?” I called out and his eyes flashed to me. I swallowed hard. “Is there a problem?” I bit my lip as he glared back down at Joe, who was seated in one of the chairs at a study table.

“No,” he growled. “Well, your DATE,” he spit the word out like it was bitter. “Will be heading home with his mommy and daddy, but aside from that, everything is just fucking grand.” Damn it.

“Joe?” I called, and he looked over his shoulder at me with bleary eyes. Fuck when did he get drunker? “You ok?” A slight nod. Great, not sure he even knows who the fuck I am. “OK, I’ll just head back-” I turned to go, but Negan’s voice stopped me.

“A moment, Miss Kendall?” I closed my eyes and nodded, my back still to him. I stepped into the hallway and leaned against the wall next to the doorway and waited.

I felt him before I saw him. “Are you alright?” His voice was quiet, quieter than he’d been with Joe. I nodded. “Amara,” he breathed, and I shook my head.

“Happy that you were right?” I muttered. “I’m fine. It’s fine.” I repeated for what felt like the thousandth fucking time. “Make sure Joe gets home safe.” And then I pushed off the wall and walked back to the gym.

Eric and Mary were waiting by the gym. Outside, without their dates. I rolled my eyes. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Fuck maybe I could record it on my phone and play it at random intervals. “Joe is going home, his parents are coming.”

Eric pulled me in for a hug and I sighed. Mary’s body pressed in from behind, sandwiching me between them. “Spring formal sucks.” He groaned above me and I giggled.

“Only for me.” I extradited myself from their embrace. “You guys are having fun. So go have fun.” I shook my head when they started to argue. “No. Go.” I pushed them both toward the doorway. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise. I need to use the girls’ room.”

They both wanted to argue, but they also both knew me well enough to know it wouldn’t work. I needed a minute. Alone.

I stood in the ladies’, staring at myself in the mirror and shook my head. Why had I bothered? This wasn’t me. I didn’t do school formals. I wasn’t the type to enjoy this crap. Hell, I wasn’t the type to wear this fucking dress, or these shoes, or- the tears sprung up before I could even think about it. Burning my eyes, and making my nose turn red. Damn it. Why did he have to witness it? Why did he have to be here at all? He had made it perfectly clear that he hated the mere thought of chaperoning. He could have commanded his way out of the fucking job.

I opened one of the stalls and lifting my skirt, I sat on the toilet. Not needing to use it, but not up to standing anymore. I unrolled the toilet paper into a wad and dabbed at my face. I hated this. The entire fucking night. This entire fucking experience. Negan. This fucking school. That fucking gym. Everything sucked. I sniffled myself into composure, and stood up, marching back to the sink and mirror. I fixed my makeup, reapplied my lipstick and walked out to face the terrible music.

The night dragged on longer than anything I’d ever been forced to endure in my life. At the end, a horrible realization hit me. My date was gone. I was now the fifth wheel to two very horny couples. Fuck. I was calculating how far my house was, and how cold the ground might be if I had to take off my shoes when Negan came up beside me.

“Let me drive you home, Amara.” I closed my eyes and counted to thirty. “You don’t wanna be in a car with those four.” I opened my eyes to see the couples in question doing their own versions of dirty dancing and grimaced. He wasn’t wrong. Fuck. “Come on, princess,” I flinched and he noticed. I heard him sigh. “Let me get you home?”

“Fine.” I walked over to Eric and Mary and screamed for them not to worry, I had a ride home. And they smiled at me through their bumping and grinding. Ugh, eye wash. I needed eye wash. I turned back to see Negan giving his own excuses. Great. My hero.

“Let’s go, Miss Kendall.” I nodded and walked behind him to his car. “You don’t have to walk so far back,” he called over his shoulder as he unlocked the car. I didn’t answer. Why bother? He held the passenger door open and I carefully got inside. Buckling my seat belt, I waited while he got in, buckled his own and started the car. “Silence isn’t really your style, Amara.” He offered as he turned onto the main road.

“Not a whole hell of a lot to say,” I bit out. I stared out the window, knowing that Negan knew my address because of the necklace. “Although I guess I should say thank you for this,” I touched the choker, feeling his eyes flash to me.

“I wanted to get you something-” he started and I cut him off.

“You did, thank you.” I refocused my attention on the passing streets. When he stopped, I was a tad confused, but then rolled my eyes. “This isn’t necessary.” We didn’t need to have ‘the talk’. We didn’t need to ‘clear the air’. I didn’t need ‘closure’.

“Fuck, Amara, look at me.” He groaned and I sighed. Why? Shaking my head, I looked. His eyes looked tight and his hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned pale white. I waited. Clearly he needed to unload something. “Did you read it?” I raised an eyebrow. Read what? “The note,” he growled and I remembered with the jewelry.

I shook my head. “My mom only gave the box to me right before we left.” I fudged a bit. “Eric and Mary read it.” I offered and saw his eyes flash. Oops.

“Damn it.” He looked like he was contemplating smacking his forehead against the steering wheel. “You are the most infuriating woman I have ever fucking met.” Well, that’s not very nice. “I have been in fucking KNOTS since-”

I snorted. “Knots?” I looked at him like he was insane. “You’ve been in knots? Why?” I was curious. Why knots? Was he worried I’d tattle? Good luck.

“Yes, Amara, KNOTS.” He growled. “You have me knotted up so fucking tight that I wanted to fucking destroy that idiot who brought you to the fucking dance.” He was staring at me. “That fucking dress didn’t exactly make my thought processes any fucking clearer.” I glanced down at my dress, what? “And those fucking heels, really, princess? Could you pick an outfit that screams ‘fuck me’ any louder?” Huh, not really what I’d been going for, but ok. “Torture, punishment, that's what these two weeks have fucking been all to culminate into this fucking nightmare.” Nightmare was an apt description for that fucking dance alright. “I’m sorry. For fuck’s sake, Amara, I’m fucking sorry. And stupid. And fucking blinder than the idiots I teach.” What? “I freaked the fuck out. You asked me if it always felt like that, and it DOESN’T. Not for me.”

“Oh.” It was lame, but it was all I had. What would you have said? YAY? He’s still a married teacher, people. “I see?” Yeah, not much better, but again, what the fuck?

“Do you?” He asked, unbuckling his seat belt and turning fully to face me. “Do you see?” His hand touched my face, and I closed my eyes at the feeling of his skin on mine. “Do you fucking see, Amara?” I opened my eyes and he was closer, his nose nearly touching mine. I swallowed, and he heard it. “Can I kiss you, princess?” I tipped my head in a small nod. And then his lips met mine and I felt the same rush. That same pull of passion. Fuck. My hands were sliding into his hair and then as he tried to pull me closer, my seat belt held me back. OUCH.

“Ow.” I whispered against his lips and we both chuckled. His hands found my seat belt buckle and released me and then I was on his lap, the skirt of my dress bunching up his hands on my bare thighs. “I missed you.” I breathed and his fingers slid higher, touching the scrap of lace that he loved finding under my clothes. A flick and they broke. “I’m gonna have to buy stock in that fucking company.” Another laugh and then his tongue touched mine and everything sharpened. The rasp of his zipper coming down, the whisper of his fingers on my skin, and then he slid into me. And I had to break our kiss to gasp at the feeling of fullness. My head fell back and his lips were on the bare skin of my chest. My hips rocked, and he moaned into my skin, and we moved. Like we had from the very first time. As natural as breathing. As perfectly fitted together as if we’d been made for one another. And as his hands gripped my hips, my hands locked on his head, we exploded together.

I was panting, he was panting. The windows were steamed up and our lips were still tasting every bit of skin we could find. “I love this fucking dress,” he muttered, nipping at my collarbone, bare skin for his feasting. “And these fucking shoes,” he moaned, his fingers tracing the straps. “And you.” Wait, what? “I love you, Amara, and I fucking shouldn’t, but I do.” Shit. I felt the breath leave my lungs. “You don’t have to say it back. Don’t say it unless you mean it.” I moved my hands to frame his face so our eyes could meet.

“You love me?” I whispered. Searching his face and eyes for bullshit. For his need to appease me. For deception of any kind and coming up empty. “Negan, you’re married.” I sighed, not what I was trying to say, but no less true. “You’re married and you’re a teacher at my school.”

As I was swallowing hard past my fear, he brushed his nose against mine. “I know, princess, but one I can fix, the other doesn’t matter in a few months.” Right, because I was going to college. “Unless,” his eyes tightened again, “unless you don’t want me to fix the one.”

Shit, that wasn’t what I- “Negan, you REALLY need to learn to read the fucking room.” He was studying me intently. “Of course I love you, you idiot.” Jesus. “I just, I don’t want to force you into-” I didn’t get to finish speaking because he kissed me breathless again.


	4. I Give Up...Clearly I'm a Lying Bitch...And This is Chapter Four of a ONE SHOT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, more Amara and Negan. Apparently I couldn't just leave y'all hanging...Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame JDMsNegan for this entire damn thing. Her fault. Blame/Thank her as you will... *Wink*

The rest of my senior year was pretty fucking pleasant. Negan and I spent as much time together as we could manage, he’d told his wife that he wanted freedom and moved into a nicer than I’d expected short term apartment. It was far enough from school and my house for visits to be easy. Or at least unnoticeable by anyone we didn’t want to notice.

Mom suspected I might have ‘a special guy’ in my life, but I nearly spit my water out during dinner when she made the assumption it was Joe. Fuck, I was choking.

“No,” I gasped, taking my napkin in hand to try to wipe my face and chest dry of the dribbles. I cleared my throat, drying to get my air and voice back. “Joe and I didn’t work out.” Under fucking statement of the decade. “There’s someone, but we’re in the early stages.” I had to force myself not to give a weird giggle that was threatening to erupt. Early stages? He’d left his wife. We fucked like bunnies every single chance we got. And right now? He was making noises about transferring to a school near the college I was heading off to.

“Do we get to meet this mystery boy?” My dad asked, suddenly more interested in me than in his slice of roast.

I nearly shivered at the absolute horror of Negan facing off against my suit and tie wearing father. Shit. “Like I said, Dad, it’s still early.” I took another sip of water, hoping I’d get to swallow it this time.

Dinner went on at a more normal tone after that. Dad went back to studying the meat, Mom went back to tsk-ing at the centerpiece, and I was left to focus on how I was going to tell them. How should I, their only child and pride of their lives, explain to them that I’ve fallen in love with a married man who happened to be my gym teacher? Fuck a duck sideways with a rusty pitchfork. Once I’d eaten my fill, I left the table and rushed upstairs. Shit, just fucking shit.

My phone dinged and I smiled through the terrifying reality of my future.

**Coming over tonight, princess?**

My grin grew as my fingers flashed across the keyboard.

**Oh I better be cumming. Over and over. Tonight.**

I hit send and tossed the phone down as I pulled open my closet doors. I heard the ding of his reply and then the phone rang. I pulled out a dress and tossed it on the bed. Picking up the phone, I was surprised to hear Eric’s voice instead of Negan’s.

“Don’t sound so fucking happy to hear my voice, you rancid whore.” I could hear his eyes roll from across the street. “I know you’re probably three steps away from riding Coach Negan into a really really hot fucking lather, but I NEED you.”

“Stop being so melodramatic, you fucking Queen.” I mocked. “What’s the issue?”

He was freaking out alright. He had a date, a really important date, to him anyway. And he was having a full on panic attack over his outfit. Honestly, this boy was worse than Mary. After promising, repeatedly, to come over as soon as I was ready for my own ‘date’, I hung up and checked the text that came in first.

**Making dinner, pasta ok?**

Fuck, I’d just eaten with the fucking parents. Shit. Maybe I could SQUEEZE a small serving in.

**Sure.**

I prayed that I could choke down more food. Negan was trying so fucking hard to go full on real relationship with me, that having him cook dinner was a huge deal. I just hadn’t had the fucking forethought to NOT eat. I pulled on the dress I’d chosen, slipped a pair of flats on my feet and brushed out my hair so the curls fell just right down my back. A tiny headband to keep my far too long fucking bangs out of my face, and I was ready to head out. Another ding sounded and I swore.

**Bitch, the fuck you at?**

Damn it, Eric. I typed in my assurances that I was on my fucking way NOW, and then a quick shout of parting to Mom and Dad and I was out the door. It took seconds to cross the street and walk into Eric’s house. Knocking was unnecessary with Eric’s family. Unlike my parents, his were shockingly progressive and open. I shouted out a greeting to his mom and looked up to see him glaring down at me from the top of the staircase. Jesus calm down.

“Get your fucking ass up here, you goddamn witch.” Damn it, son. I rushed up as his mom’s laughter followed me. She was as used to his weirdness as I was, more so I guess since she’d pooped him out.

Entering his room, I sucked in a breath. It looked like an Old Navy had exploded inside. I’d never seen so many clothes just EVERYWHERE. Fuck. “What the shit?” I looked around and finally my eyes landed on him standing near the completely empty closet.

“Help.” He squeaked. And I fought laughing.

A half an hour later, Eric was dressed, his hair was coiffed, and he looked hot. Well, hot for a totally flaming gay dude who was thirsty for dick. Hugging him and giving him a pep talk, I rushed back out the front door with another shouted parting to his mom and was in my car on the way to Negan’s.

My phone rang as I was pulling into his parking lot. “Hello?” I answered as I parked.

“Princess? Are you alright?” Shit, I hadn’t let him know about Eric.

I gave a quiet chuckle. “I’m here, Negan. Eric had an-” I rolled my eyes at the use of the word. “Emergency.”

“Is he OK?” The concern in my voice made me want to slap Eric shitless. I was out of the car and walking up the sidewalk as I shook my head.

“He’s fine,” I answered, smiling as I heard him exhale in relief. “Now that he has the perfect outfit.”

“WHAT?” I held back a laugh and his door opened in front of me. He was looking at me like I was insane as I tucked my phone in my bag. “An outfit is an emergency?” I came closer and wrapped my arms around his waist.

“Have you met Eric?” I felt him nod above me. “Yes, an outfit is an emergency.” I tilted my head back to look up at him as he pulled me inside and shut the door. “Kiss me.” It wasn’t really a demand, but more like an urgent request. He raised an eyebrow. “Please.” Smiling, he lowered his face to mine and gave me what I wanted.

I could smell the tomatoes he’d used in the sauce. I could smell the yeast of the bread he was heating. And yet, the ONLY thing I wanted to taste was him. Which is why I groaned when he pulled away. Fuck.

“Come on, sweetheart, dinner first, then-” he left it hanging. I bit my lip and let him link the fingers of our hand and pull me along to the kitchen. He’d set the table with a candle and dimmed the lights. Ugh, who knew that Coach Negan could be romantic? I mentally raised my hand. Me.

He held my chair and after I sat took his own. “How was your day?” I asked, as he dished his own serving out. Handing me the bowls, I took slightly more than I wanted or thought I could stomach shoveling in. I grabbed the smallest slice of warm bread I could, and waited for him to take his first bite.

“Not bad,” he answered, after he swallowed. He was watching me and glanced at my plate. “Not hungry?” Fuck.

“For food?” I countered, hoping that sounding as starving for him as I always seemed to be would do the trick.

He smirked and took another bite. “Eat, princess, you’re gonna need your strength.” Fuck, that twist in my stomach of want and lust came hard and fast.

I twirled my pasta around my fork and took a bite. Shit. I moaned at the flavor. Jesus God, who fucking would have guessed that he could fucking cook? I looked up at him and saw, even through the dim light and candle flame flickering, how dark his eyes looked. Damn. Swallowing carefully, I licked my lip and saw his eyes flick to the movement. “Something wrong?”

“Not sure I’ve ever heard that noise come out of your mouth, Amara.” How fucking low could his voice get? “Makes me want to find out what else makes you make that noise.” Shit, I had to squeeze my thighs together at that promise.

“You up for that challenge, Coach?” I asked, playing with my fork.

“You trying to dare me, princess?” He volleyed back.

And then dinner was forgotten, even if that fucking sauce alone made me want to rethink my position for a moment, but then my position was on top of the counter of the small bar and he was cradled between my knees and I forgot the fucking problem all together. He was inside of me and his mouth was latched onto my neck as I made some noises that no human being had possibly ever made in the history of humankind.

“Fuck, Amara,” he breathed into my skin and I growled at the feeling. “That’s right, sweetheart, clamp right the fuck down on me.” I arched forward into his body and he hissed and pulled away from my neck. His eyes on mine, he kept thrusting, watching my face as I bit my lip to keep from screaming. “Let go, princess, we’re all the fuck alone, remember?” And I did. I screamed his name. I begged, I pleaded. I demanded, I ordered. I wanted so fucking much and I got every damn thing I asked for.

Panting and leaning into me, I felt Negan chuckle. “When did you eat with your parents?” I grinned at him, fuck, he knew everything.

“About ten minutes before you told me you were making me dinner.” I answered, holding him to me with my knees tight. “I’m sorry.” I kissed his chin, then his cheek. “I’m sorry I was late.” A kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I’d eaten.” I kissed his nose. “I’m sorry that I don’t have room for more of that fucking amazing sauce you made.” He chuckled again. “I’m sorry that you’re trying so fucking hard and I keep screwing up.” My lips brushed his.

“Amara,” he pulled back so he could look me fully in the face. “You’re not screwing up, honey.” He brushed his nose against mine. “This is new, so fucking new, for both of us. We get a learning curve.” His lips met mine again. “But,” he’d pulled back a bit again. “If you don’t fucking learn to call or text to tell me you’re gonna be fucking late? You won’t be able to sit for a goddamn week.” Shit.

It took a while. That learning curve he offered, for us to find our stride. Our new normal. I’d give him a heads up when I couldn’t bow out of dinner with Mom and Dad. He’d give me a heads up if he wanted to treat me to dinner, or a movie, which we did without blinking. We dated. Like normal people would. Well, if one of the normal people had a career that could be ruined if the relationship he was enjoying with the other normal person became public.

We found ways to do dates that didn’t threaten either of our futures. Or our combined future? Shit, I was usually so verbose. The point is, we found a retro drive-in in a nearby town that we took full advantage of, sometimes we even paid attention to the movie playing. We had dinner in small diners. We found ways to be a couple without having to face any negative parts that us being together could potentially cause. Mostly.

I had texted him to let him know that dinner with the parents was mandatory, for reasons unspecified by the parents. I didn’t let him know that I’d been given a dress code for the dinner. Or that my mom was shooting me weird looks. Why? Because I didn’t fucking understand the underlying current of the fucking requests.

Not until, about twenty minutes before this required to attend dinner was scheduled to start, the doorbell rang. “Amara, sweetie, could you answer the door?” My mom called from the kitchen.

Sure, fuck, why not? I thought, glancing in the entryway mirror at the dress my mom had practically picked out of my closet for me to wear. Actually, she did pick it out. Literally. Opening the door I bit back an actual curse. Joe Malberry and an older couple that must be his parents. What the literal hell?

“Good evening.” I offered, breeding taking over for my warring brain. Joe was eyeing me head to toe and I was considering making my mom do more than tsk over the fucking centerpiece. I stood back and let the three of them in. They weren’t wearing coats, so I didn’t have to offer to collect them like a fucking coat check girl.

“Ah, hello,” my mom breathed as she glided into the entryway. “Welcome to our home.” She wasn’t looking at me, so I doubt she noticed my look of fucking irritation at this bullshit. “I’m so happy you accepted my invitation on such short notice.” What the fuck?

She was ushering them into the family room where I could hear my dad greeting them. I was glaring so hard at my mother’s back that she should have felt scorch marks. Damn her. I pulled my cell from a pocket in my dress and shot a text to Eric.

**Mom invited JOE FUCKING MALBERRY and his FUCKING PARENTS for DINNER. I am going to fucking commit parricide.**

I felt the vibration of his reply almost immediately as I slowly walked to the family room.

**JESUS...Negan’s gonna fucking tan your ass so hard that it’ll be picked up on infrared scanners for miles.**

Fuck. I rolled my eyes. Choices. Text Negan for the heads up, like a good girl and good partner? Or pretend that I wasn’t in the fucking Twilight Zone of all dinners? I tapped out the text.

**I didn’t know. I FUCKING swear I didn’t know. But Mom invited Joe and his parents for dinner tonight. Fuck. I’d rather be with you. Or on the moon right now.**

I heard and felt nothing come from my cell. Nothing. No vibrations. No ding. No ring. Nothing. But as we were sitting down in the dining room, the doorbell chimed. Fuck. I closed my eyes, and waited.

“Amara, darling,” I opened my eyes to see my mom asking with her eyes for me to answer the damn door. Thank god.

“Yes, of course.” I stood up and noticed that Joe hadn’t rushed to hold my chair. Unlike Negan, by the way. “Excuse me.”

I nearly ran to the door, hoping beyond hope that Eric had come to my rescue. But standing on the other side of the door wasn’t Eric. It wasn’t Mary. Instead, Negan was standing there looking like a fucking thundercloud. Shit.

“Amara,” he gritted through his teeth. I must have looked scared because he pulled me to him and held me to his chest. “You OK?” I nodded, and breathed in his scent.

“Yeah, just REALLY didn’t fucking expect to attend the dinner party from hell tonight.” I was murmuring into his chest. “Thank you for coming to check on me.”

“That’s not why I’m here, sweetheart.” What? Shit. “I’m here to meet your parents.” Damn it.


	5. It's Chapter Five of a One Shot...Don't Look at Me Like That...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan thinks NOW is the best time to meet Amara's parents...UM...OK.

I was typing out a text to both Eric AND Mary as Negan was entering the house. Fuck fuck fuck.

**9 1 1 NOW SOS FUCK**

A buzz came as we stood for a moment in the foyer. I stopped Negan with a hand on his arm. “One second, please.” I pleaded, and he stood with me as I typed a reply to Eric’s triple question marked response.

**NEGAN my house NOW.**

As I held on to Negan’s arm, another vibration and looked down I smiled. “OK, let’s head in.” Before we could be seen through the doorway of the dining room the doorbell chimed again. “I’ll get it.” I offered, loud enough for Mom to hear and Negan shot me a look. “Come with me.”

Standing outside the door was the cavalry. “Eric,” I closed my eyes in gratitude for my best friend. “Mary.” I grinned at my other bestie. “Thank fucking GOD.” Negan was standing back staring at the three of us as we clustered together. We wouldn’t have long. Mom would wonder what was going on. She’d rush out and here we’d be, a clusterfuck of assholes. “Negan wants to meet Mom and Dad. Tonight.” I filled my best friends in as Negan stood there watching us with a combined look of discomfort and confusion.

“Wow, Coach,” Eric ran his gaze over Negan from top to bottom. “Balls of steel.” Fuck, don’t laugh, don’t fucking laugh. “Should have joined a fucking sport.” He muttered to himself, and I bit my fucking lip. Negan’s expression was going to undo me. Fuck.

“Guys,” Mary tried to refocus us. “OK, so if we all walk in, you,” she pointed at me, “can be like ‘oh, Mom, I’m sorry I invited my friends over and totally forgot.’” I nodded, it sounded like a good start. “And you,” she gestured to Negan, “you’re going to introduce yourself. And we’re going to EASE the relationship into the conversation, maybe, we'll see. No pissing on my girl’s leg, do you fucking get that?” Negan opened his mouth to argue, but she shushed him. “At school you’re Coach, but here? Here I’m Coach.” She shot Eric a look. “And YOU.” Damn it. “You are going to play referee. If you see the level of awkward shooting up, make it go away. If you sense that SOMEONE,” another look at Negan, “is about to go postal? You are going to fucking divert it. Fully. Fucking sing show-tunes if you must, but don’t let this shit get out of hand.”

“All gays DO NOT sing show-tunes, whore.” Eric muttered, and Mary shot him a glare that I was envious of. “Fine. I’ll sing like a fucking canary.” He held up his palms in surrender.

“I’ll run interference.” I raised an eyebrow. “Your parents want you and Joe to make tiny perfect bland babies, but trust me, I’ll make Joe want to practice with me first.” I giggled. “OK, that’s the plan. Let’s go before Mrs. Kendall decides to come find us.”

I had doubts, as we rounded the corner and entered the dining room. My mom’s eyes widened at my collection of misfits. My dad’s look of confusion. I made the excuses that Mary had concocted for their presence. I didn’t stumble through it, I held my head high, as though I often made such silly faux pas. My mother, knowing that to pitch a fit would be TOTALLY against her goals for this dinner, smiled through her irritation and graciously welcomed Mary and Eric to join us. Her gaze met Negan’s form and I had to fight closing my eyes from the churning of my stomach.

He did fine. He introduced himself without allowing for a comfortable opening to attack his clear age difference, and he even shot Joe a look as though daring him to mention school. Joe, I was happy to see, wasn't even paying the slightest attention, since he was focused on Mary’s cleavage. I had a flash of fear about his parents recognizing Negan, but then rolled my eyes internally when I realized they were cut from the same high and mighty cloth as my parents. Negan, as a mere teacher, was beneath their notice. Even when he was the one to force them to fetch drunk Joe from the dance.

We got situated around the table, Negan held my chair for me and Eric held Mary’s. Mary was seated between Joe and Eric, who shot me a wink as I realized Negan took the seat next to me, putting me between him, and since I sat at the corner, my mom. Great. Fuck.

Our dinner was served, courses and courses of dinner, because clearly my mother was in the impress the Malberrys mode. As I was about to sigh through the main course, I felt Negan’s hand touch my knee. I glanced at him and he was smiling.

“Joe,” my mother had been trying, with various levels of failure to draw Joe into a conversation that would PROVE to me that he was worth a second look, throughout each course. “What are your plans after graduation?”

It wasn’t Joe who answered. It hadn’t been Joe who’d answered ANY of Mom’s questions all evening. His mother fielded most of them, but his dad chimed in now and again. And my mom’s interest would wane for a moment, and her focus would shift. To Eric, asking him if he’d found anyone special, then flinching when Eric would say something about the GUY he was seeing. I bit my lip and looked at my plate. Or when she asked Mary if she’d heard from any of the schools she’d applied to and Mary deadpanned that she hadn’t but there was always cosmetology school. I knew that Mary got in to every fucking school she’d applied to, because she might be fun and silly, but she was also fucking smart as fuck. So was Eric, but no one ever noticed it.

“Negan, is it?” My mom had refocused, fuck.

He’d been taking a drink of his water and swallowed carefully before answering. “Yes, Mrs. Kendall, that’s my name.” His fingers were sliding on my bare skin, teasing me as he spoke with complete ease to my mother.

“You don’t look like a student.” Not a question, so he didn’t answer. “How is it you know my daughter?” Fuck.

“Oh, Mrs. Kendall,” Eric cut in, seemingly accidentally. “I think there’s a chip in my plate, I hope that a bit of the porcelain isn’t in my potatoes.” Oh my God.

“What?” Mom was on her feet and next to Eric’s seat studying his dish, leaning closer and closer as Eric kept pointing at I fucking hoped an actual fucking knick.

“You doing alright, princess?” Negan breathed close to my ear, not so close to draw attention, but close enough so no one could hear him.

“Fine, you?” I spoke to my forkful of broccoli.

“Highly fucking entertained.” And I sucked in a lungful of air when his finger traced up my inner thigh. “Your friends are fucking amazing, sweetheart.”

“Aren’t they though.” I smiled, taking a bite of my vegetables.

Mom had left the room with Eric’s plate, bitching about the nerve of the housekeeper/cook having broken the good china. Dear fucking god. I caught Eric’s eye and he winked and I had to bite my lip again.

“So, Joe,” Mary was breathing up at the big lug. “What brings you to Amara’s house for dinner?” Shit. Joe was looking down at her with an almost glazed look in his eyes and I wondered if he had hit the bottle again.

“Her mom called my mom and invited us.” Huh, he wasn’t drunk, he was just fucking HORNY for Mary. At my dinner table. Negan was right, this was fucking entertaining. “Glad you showed up.” Wow, thanks, I feel special now.

Negan’s finger was sliding ever higher up my inner thigh and I closed my eyes as he was nearing his goal. Fuck. “Amara, is something wrong.” Fuck, Mom’s back. I opened my eyes and looked up at where she was hovering at her chair. Negan’s hand left and he stood to hold out her chair, as he had mine. “Thank you, Mr. Negan.” Mr. Negan? Fuck.

“Nothing’s wrong, Mom.” I answered, forking a piece of chicken. “Just a bit of a headache.” Negan took his own seat again, once Mom had sat back down. “Dinner is delicious, by the way.” Sprinkle in a compliment, tramp down the worry, rinse and repeat.

She smiled at me and then her eyes fell on Negan again. “Mr. Negan?” Here we go again.

“Mrs. Kendall,” Eric, I swear to fucking God I would buy him whatever his heart desired after tonight, piped up. “My mom would die for the recipe for this-” he held up, I squinted, was that the fucking garnish?

“It’s cilantro, Eric,” my mom looked confused, and I could see her mind shoot to a question about whether Eric was high. And I was biting my lip so hard that I almost didn’t feel the return of Negan’s hand on my thigh. Shit, I wasn’t going to survive this.

“No, Mrs. Kendall, not this-” I watched, my eyes widening, as Eric flung the cilantro over his fucking shoulder like it offended him. “Cilantro tastes like dirty dishwater. THIS.” He picked up a bite of chicken. “Mom would LOVE the recipe for this, I know it.”

Dear fucking God. Eric was either earning every fucking BEST FRIEND MERIT BADGE ever, or he was going to die at my mom’s hands.

“Eric Sullivan!” My mother gasped, and I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or stand up and get between them. “Did you just toss the garnish-”

“He’s right,” my dad’s voice cut in. “Why do we buy this crap when we don’t actually eat it?” Twilight Zone. I must have been transported into an alternative fucking reality because my dad NEVER engaged during dinner. EVER. He didn’t toss his over his shoulder, but he did put it on the bread dish next to his plate. “It’s disgusting and quite frankly, it does taste like dirty dishwater.”

Negan was biting his own lip beside me. I could see it out of the corner of my eye. Jesus. “I don’t know.” Negan picked up his sprig of the greenery and bit into it. “I kind of like it.”

For fuck’s sake. What the hell was going on? And then the debate really got rolling. With Mary and slow Joe weighing in on Negan’s side. Pretty sure Joe would have voted for Hitler if Mary mentioned he had some good ideas, at this point. His parents were split, his mother, clearly trying to salvage the slowly fraying likelihood of Joe and me, sided with Mom and his dad, not reading any part of this batshit room was wondering why anyone ever used any garnish whatsoever.

“Princess, I think this shit has gone fucking all the way around the goddamn bend.” Negan’s voice was a breath again, somehow I heard him over the very enthusiastic debate that was now going on about garnish period. I nodded, glancing around the table in disbelief.

Dinner was over faster than I expected, my mom never getting a chance to return to her twice failed interrogation of Negan. As we walked our guests to the door, a cluster of a group if I'd ever seen one, she tried ONE more time.

“Mr. Negan,” I held back a sigh. “I feel like we never did get to speak fully.” No shit, Mom, it was a concerted effort, trust me.

“I guess not, Mrs. Kendall.” He was smiling down at her, oozing charm.

“You should come to dinner next week.” Fuck. “This time, perhaps, Amara can NOT invite her friends without asking first.” Damn it. No buffer this time. “What day would work best for you?”

I zoned out. Shit. Although, alone with just my parents and Negan, maybe it wouldn’t be such a nightmare? As Negan crossed over the threshold to leave, the final participant in the world’s most strange dinner party, Mom and I offered our goodbyes, his eyes lingered on me for a beat and I knew I’d be getting a call soon.

Once the door closed, Dad was already in the family room with his paper, Mom focused on me. “When were you planning on telling me you’re involved with the gym teacher?” Shit.


	6. Chapter Six...Don't Bother Glaring...I'm Doing it For You...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the first meeting with the parents not a success...This time? Fingers crossed.

Awkward. That’s the best word for the situation I found myself in as my mom stood leaning against the front door after dropping the bombshell that she KNEW that Negan and I were-whatever the fuck Negan and I were. Shit.

“Amara Elinor Kendall.” Shit the big fucking guns. My full name. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Wait, what? “If that man was grooming you all these years-” Oh for fuck’s sake, really?

“Mother!” I gasped, stopping her. “Negan is plenty of things, but he’s not a child molester.” I rolled my eyes. “We never, he NEVER so much as looked at me until this year. AFTER I turned eighteen.” Jesus. Really?

“It’s inappropriate, Mara.” She offered, eyes shrewd. “He’s in a position of authority and you are still a student.” No, really?

I fought an eye roll. “Mom,” I sighed. “Negan’s NOT my teacher. He’s in NO position of authority over me.” Unless I’ve misbehaved and he decides to punish me, fuck, DON’T think about that now, you stupid asshole. “Seriously, he’s not that guy, whoever that guy IS.”

Mom was studying me. My face, the hopefully more earnest than irritated expression I was showing her and my eyes. “You’re in love with him.” Well, no shit. “He’s-” She stopped, considering what she found most inappropriate about Negan. “He’s so much older than you.”

“Isn’t Dad like ten years older than you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. She nodded vaguely, and I watched as she worked on her next argument against Negan.

“He’s a gym teacher, Mara.” Said in the same tone of voice most people might offer ‘he’s a serial killer who fucks corpses, Mara.’. I nodded, can’t dispute that fact.

“He is.” I waited, then since we seemed at a standoff, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why is teaching such a terrible career?” Oh, please, I begged, come at me now.

“It’s not real teaching, is it?” I nearly huffed a laugh. You sit on your ass in a huge fucking house hiring and firing maids on a whim, but Negan’s not a real teacher. OK.

I tilted my head and considered the plan of attack. “He gives tests, he grades tests, they have WORDS on the tests.” She was looking for a hole, I could see it. “And since I plan on teaching-”

“English literature,” Mom argued. “Or history, Mara, it’s not the same.”

“I’ll still be paid shit wages.” I raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have to pay out of my own pocket for supplies. I’ll have to beg students’ families for help.” She was thinking through my argument when I hit her with it. “Negan doesn’t have to do any of that. His supplies are fully funded. His equipment, his paper usage, his entire class is fully budgeted for.” Her eyes met mine. “That means, he’s in a better position than I will be, even when I hit the same seniority that he has now.”

“Amara, what will everyone say?” Ah, the real issue. Image. “He’s older, and he’s-”

“He loves me.” I answered, and looked her dead in the eye. “He loves me, and he was there when Joe was too drunk to stand up at the spring formal. He’s the one who called Joe’s parents and had them come fetch his drunken self home. He’s the one who brought me home, safe and sound.” Minus my panties, but those were always being wrecked. And an hour after we left the school, to rip said panties, but she didn’t need that information either.

“Joe’s-” Mom started, but she was flailing and knew it.

“He was going to urinate in the punch bowl, Mom.” Screw it, let’s pound that final nail into the dream of a Joe and Amara future. “That’s how Negan knew.”

She closed her eyes and her head hit the door. Shit, did I break my mom. “That’s disgusting.” Ah, not broken, but definitely undone by the utter grossness of Joe’s drunken behavior.

“Didn’t you notice their differences tonight, Mom?” She opened her eyes to meet mine. “Joe, your ‘dream boyfriend’ for me, didn’t even hold my chair once.” She bit her lip, remembering that Negan had held mine, and HERS. “Hell, even Eric, who doesn’t really get into the ovary set, held Mary’s chair.” I shook my head. “You want so badly to have the IMAGE right, Mom, Negan IS the right image.”

She huffed out a breath. “Fine.” What? “Next week, we’ll set down to dinner, the FOUR of us, and we’ll talk.” I waited. “Perhaps without Eric tossing cilantro and breaking plates to distract me, I’ll find out if I like Negan.” I bit my lip. “Do tell Eric that destroying my china makes me want to invite him over less?” Like you loved it now, I thought. “By the way, what’s this Steven look like?” Shit, she remembered Eric’s new boy toy’s name.

The week leading up to our family dinner was weird. Since graduation, and prom I suppose, was coming at us fast and furious, our lunches were more about discussing outfit options for under the gown and if I wanted to brave another formal.

“I’m still trying to wrap my fucking mind around the fact that your mother figured out you and Negan.” Eric said for the millionth time. “How?”

“You mean with your inspired distractions?” I laughed as Mary said it. “That cilantro toss, fuck I thought she was going to tackle you.”

“She told me,” after we had the weirdest girly gossip session about Eric’s Steven, Mary’s actual school prospects, and Joe’s slack jawed lackluster performance at dinner, “that she’d kept an eye on his hands.” They both looked at me with wide eyes. “His hand nearest me was never on the table, so she knew where he no doubt had it.” Well, she decided he was holding my hand, but clearly that was wishful thinking since both of mine had been in full view on top of the table. Selective memory, or blindness depending on your view.

“Momma Kendall with the Amish hand counting.” Mary and I giggled at Eric. “And now, dinner?”

I nodded. “Yep.” I bit my lip. “Dinner with the parents. I hope he’s prepared.”

“He is,” Negan had managed to sneak up on us. “Hey, sweetheart.” He smiled down at me as I tipped my head back to look up at him. “Your mom counted my hands?” I raised an eyebrow. “I heard Eric’s eloquent description.” I grinned.

“Yeah, you weren’t very suave.” I bit my lip and his eyes flicked to my teeth. “Do you have any backlog of grading that I can give you a hand with, Coach?”

“You read my mind, Miss Kendall.” His eyes were dark, but they were also bright with happiness. “Next period?” I nodded my agreement. “See you then.” He smiled at Eric and Mary and then walked away.

“I hate to see him go, but I fucking love to watch him leave.” Eric practically moaned while staring at Negan’s ass.

“Could you try to act slightly less starved for my guy’s fucking ass, Eric?” I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, keep showing him that much fucking thirst and I may start to feel jealous.”

Mary was snickering as Eric shot me a look. “Jealous of the fact that he might realize that you’re hot as shit, but I’M hot as fuck?” I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Or jealous that I’m not showing you the same attention?” That did it, I let out my held back laughter. “That’s right, bitch, I’m the queen.”

“You’re the delusional bitch,” Mary corrected. “Negan’s got eyes for one person, and it pains even me to say, it’s his princess here.” She gestured to me with her thumb. “She’s a lucky bitch, but I like to think he’s a lucky asshole for catching her.”

“Aww, Mary,” I hugged her. “That’s the strangest, yet sweetest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

I shot Eric a look over her shoulder, daring him to rise to the occasion and get back in the best best friend running.

“Bitch, please, do you NOT recall my performance at your doomed dinner party?” He raised his eyebrow. “I own your loyalty forever.”

Our laughter rang over the cafeteria.

I met Negan in his office. No need to constantly draw attention to ourselves. I was opening up the drawer where he usually kept his grade book and the ever growing pile of quizzes that needed to be graded. I found a different stack of papers. Reading the top, I sat down in his desk chair where he found me.

“Hey, princess.” His eyes dropped to the papers I’d found. “See you found my divorce papers.” He didn’t sound upset. That was good, I guess. “Amara, why do you look so-”

“Did I destroy your marriage?” I wanted to know. Did I ruin something of his? The page I’d read through told me that his marriage had been LONG. What if I wasn’t-

He knelt in front of me and framed my face with his hands. “No.” I looked into his eyes and tried to find any lie in what he was saying. “No, Amara, you didn’t destroy my marriage. It was over, and you helped me find the strength to leave. Finally.” Oh. “It’s a hell of a sight easier to stay in a familiar situation even if you aren’t happy, then leave and know there’s nothing to make it better.” I was squinting and trying to understand. “Freedom wasn’t enough of an incentive to leave, princess.” He shook his head. “I needed to know that I’d find someone who could make me FEEL something again. You, sweetheart, you shocked the fuck out of me.”

I smiled. “No regrets?” I nodded toward the papers.

“Not a single fucking one.” Negan offered with his usual confidence. “And, I don’t know how far you read?”

“Top page.”

“This is my finalized copy.” Oh. “It’s done.” I was a touch confused. Didn’t divorces usually go on forever. “No kids, Amara. I didn’t want the house. I hated the furniture. I got my car, and half the monetary assets, no contest.” OK. “I’m free and I’m yours.”

I bit my lip and leaned forward to press my forehead against his. “Mine?”

“Yours.”

“Do I get to do anything I want with what’s mine?” I asked, and I heard him inhale sharply. He nodded. “Good.” I leaned closer and kissed him, nipping at his bottom lip and smiling into his open mouth. Our tongues touched and then, my hands were pulling at his shirt and it was off. My fingers slid down his chest, touching every inch of skin I could. “More.” And he stood and shucked off his shorts. I stood up and those damn panties were a memory and then he was inside of me and we were on the desk, his copy of his divorce papers crunching under me as we came together hard and fast. “Harder.” And he complied. Thrusting so hard that I was thankful the damn desk was made of metal, because wood might have splintered and broke. “More.” I whispered, biting his bicep, feeling my climax scream through me. And he gave me more, and more. The bell rang as we were cleaning up.

“I didn’t get to grade your papers,” I offered, as he kissed the back of my neck. He chuckled against my skin.

“There weren’t any.” I turned and he was smiling. “I wanted you to see those papers.” He pointed to the wrinkled mess that was his copy of his divorce. “Didn’t quite imagine we’d celebrate on top of the damn things.”

I smiled and pulled his head down to kiss me again. “I love you.”

“Oh, Amara Kendall, I fucking adore you.” He whispered, as his nose nudged mine.

The evening of our dinner, I was more nervous than the first time I CONSIDERED having sex with Negan. More nervous than the morning he spanked me raw. I was nervous that my mom would have closed herself off again, and that without her Dad’s acceptance would be a damn pipe dream.

She hadn’t given me a dress code for this meal. Thank God. I picked one of the silky slip dresses that I preferred, pairing it with a light and loose sweater, the white chucks I’d worn with the destroyed jeans. I was braiding my hair when I heard the doorbell ring. Shit already?

“Amara!” My mother’s voice called up the stairs. “Mr. Negan is here.” I was going to die if she insisted on calling him Mr. Negan.

“I’ll be right down!” I called back, wondering if I should have pressed my luck and told her to send him up. Was I becoming hysterical? Yes. I tied off my braid and took a quick look at my appearance. Then, smiling at my reflection, I grabbed the jewelry he’d gotten me for the spring formal and added them to my outfit. Mom might not get the message, but he would.

I forced myself to walk down the stairs at a normal and proper pace. Running down and leaping into his arms wouldn’t win Mom, or Dad for that matter over. It was a moot point anyway, since they’d already gone into the family room. I stood for a moment in the doorway taking in the scene. Negan looked at ease, and so did my parents. No one was screaming. No one was bleeding. Yet.

“Good evening,” I offered, stepping into the room. Negan was beaming up at me from his seat on the sofa, and Mom and Dad were smiling as well.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Mom offered, so I took the seat next to Negan. I itched to take his hand in mine, but I thought slow and steady might be best. “You’re wearing the jewelry from your formal.” Of course she’d notice. The woman was just the most laser focused person on the planet where I was concerned.

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s such a pretty set that it seemed a waste to only wear it once.” My fingers touched the longer rhinestone strand that was settled over the sweater where my cleavage would be located, if it wasn’t covered by my sweater.

My mother’s eyes weren’t on me, they were on Negan. Whose eyes were on my hand and the necklace. “I see.” I’m sure you do, Mom.

“What’s on the menu?” I asked, hoping that the dredge of conversation since I’d stepped into the damn room wasn’t going to be a foreshadowing for the rest of the evening.

Mom ripped off the meal details, and I nodded along. Happy to hear that carrots weren’t on the menu. She didn’t need to amplify that perfect vision of hers anymore. My hand was dying to grab Negan’s. I wanted, no, I NEEDED to feel his skin. And I could swear my mother was watching me to see if I could control myself.

Dinner was announced and Dad looked a bit surprised to see Negan. Did he just not fucking notice us all sitting around him? Jesus, Mom sees EVERYTHING and Dad is like Rip Van Winkle and shocked at his surroundings when he blinked awake. Shit.

“Ah, Mr.-” Dad was searching his brain for Negan’s name. It was a WEEK ago, Dad. “Negan.” He snapped his fingers and looked so fucking proud that I felt like screaming. “Welcome back.”

Jesus. “Thank you, Mr. Kendall.” Negan’s hand was on my upper back and guiding me toward the dining room. We were behind Mom and Dad so I closed my eyes in happiness, when that long fingered hand of his slid down my back and cupped my ass through the silk of my dress. “Keep calm, princess,” he breathed into my ear before taking his hand away.

Mom, hand counter extraordinaire, had set the dining room table up so Negan and I sat on opposite sides of the table. Amish, indeed. And the interrogation began.

My mom was relentless. And Negan was tireless. Every question she asked, and she dug deep, he answered. Calmly and simply.

“Are you married, Mr. Negan.” Dear Lord drop the fucking ‘Mr.’ would you?

He shot me a look and I widened my eyes. “Not anymore.” Simple, true, without extraneous details.

Mom took a sip of water and I measured the width of the tabletop separating Negan from me. His chair was pushed in close. Mine was too. The width, if he had his legs in a comfortable and elongated spread, wasn’t completely outside the bounds of-

“Amara!” Shit, I looked at my mother and realized I’d missed something. “Honestly, where did you daydream off to?” She shook her head. “I was asking you if you wanted to take Mr. Negan on a tour of the house?” Wait, I looked down at my plate and was shocked to see that I’d literally zoned out and missed eating dessert. Shit.

“Sure, Mom.” I nodded and caught Negan’s eye across the table. He was smiling, shit. He came around the table and helped me out of my chair. “Thank you, Mr. Negan.” He gave a quiet chuckle and we walked from the dining room.

We walked along the hallway, me pointing out, with just enough volume so my mom knew I was playing good tour guide, the various rooms. “Where did you drift off to, sweetheart?” We were out of hearing range.

“I was doing a mental math problem.” He was grinning down at me. “Measuring the width of that table, and the length of your legs, and wondering if trying to have a round of footsie would work.” His smile grew. “My legs aren’t long enough to be able to reach your crotch from that distance, so I couldn’t have given you a footjob.”

“Dear fucking God,” he hissed, pulling me up the stairs. “Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

I was holding back giggles as I took the lead and tugged him into my bedroom. “Kiss me.” He didn’t wait for me to say ‘please’ this time. His lips met mine and he pressed me against my closed door. Licking into my mouth, I could taste chocolate on his tongue. “I really wish I hadn’t blinked out on dessert,” I murmured against his lips. “I love chocolate.” And then he dove back in and I realized I loved chocolate flavored Negan more.

He ended it way too soon for my liking. “Not here, princess.” Really? My bed was RIGHT there. “Come on, I just made peace with your mother.” What? Fuck, what else did I miss? Did we finally win the war on terrorism?

“Shit, what did I miss during that fucking math problem?” I asked, leaning against the door.

He was smiling as he told me that Mom and he had ran through the gambit of his entire fucking life story. I’d missed it. Negan’s backstory. For fuck’s sake, my mother knew this man better than me now. My mouth dropped open when he said they’d agreed that he and I were adults, adults who would decide the course of our own relationship.

“You and my mom just negotiated our relationship?” I was about to say ‘without me’ but that was truly my fucking fault. “Did Dad speak at all?”

“He asked me to pass the salt.” I nodded, yeah that sounded like Dad. “But, Amara, I won’t have sex with you here. Not in their house.” It was my house too, I wanted to argue. “It’s disrespectful, sweetheart.”

Ugh. I had to fall in love with a moral, hot as fuck, sexual master. “Fine.” I was pouting. I knew it, and he was clearly enjoying it. “Then I’ll just follow you home.” His smile grew.

“No fucking arguments here,” his arms wrapped around me. “Don’t change, I want to strip every fucking stitch of what you’re wearing off of you piece by fucking peace.” Shit.


	7. No More Excuses...I Fucking Love Writing This...

After saying good night to my parents, who were surprisingly quiet and accepting about me wanting to ‘spend some time with Mr. Negan alone’ (I gag at the very nonsense of calling him that, but I’d kill to say ‘sir’ see his fists clench and my mom take note.), we got into his car and headed over. I had wanted to take my OWN car, but something in the way he’d looked at me told me that there was a motive behind the madness.

I had just buckled myself in, Negan beside me when I had to ask. “Why one car?” I watched him keep his focus straight ahead. Fuck. “Negan, why only one car?”

He sighed. “Your mother wanted to make sure that I would bring you home tonight.” He answered, side eyeing me. “Two cars meant, in her mind, that you’d fake out and call in a sleepover with Eric,” I saw his eyebrow raise at the theory that even a sleepover with Eric was better than one with him, “or Mary.”

Shit. It had been on my mind. Pack a bag, rush downstairs, tell Mom and Dad that after Negan’s I’d just hop over to Mary’s since it was further away and stay there. I even had the perfect reasoning for it. Mary lived closer to Negan’s. Damn that woman and her ability to close loopholes. That must have been why, when I’d moved to grab a bag, Negan had stopped me. Damn fuck shit.

“Ugh.” I groaned. And then I pouted. I wanted a FULL night with him. What’s the point of them knowing, if I was still being treated like a child. “I’m an adult, Negan, this is stupid.”

“You’re an adult, but you’re still their little girl, Amara.” He reached over to take my hand as he drove us to his place. “There’s a silver lining.” I glanced over at him and saw him shooting me a look with a grin. “This stipulation is ONLY until you walk across the stage and get your diploma.” I felt a smile tug at my lips. “If you hadn’t zoned out during dinner, you might have already known all that.” He rolled his eyes and I snorted.

“I’ve lived through more dinners with my parents than you’ll ever have to worry about, Negan.” I linked our fingers. “Trust me, you’ll zone out soon enough around them at dinnertime.” I smiled and brought his hand to my mouth to kiss his knuckles. “Besides, I was doing math. That should count for something.”

He laughed and I caught his eye again. “You were thinking dirty thoughts, princess.” I nodded and bit my lip. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

“Me fucking either.”

Negan barely got the door closed before I was wrapped in his arms. “Now we’re in MY house, princess.” That clench of lust in my stomach hit and his mouth was on mine. Kissing Negan was almost enough to get me over the first hurdle of pleasure, ALMOST. “I think I made a promise in your room,” his breath fanned my lips. Another tightening. “Come here.” And then he was pulling me through his apartment to the bedroom.

He flicked the light switch and adjusted the light to the dimness he wanted. When his eyes met mine again, I was suddenly incredibly appreciative of the fact that we had the privacy his place afforded us. My room would have been a terrible idea, because when his fingertips met my skin, I couldn’t hold back any of the sounds that fought for freedom out of my mouth. And, when we finally came together, naked and on his completely decadent bed, over and over, I realized that I’d be counting down the days to graduation with more fervor than I’d ever considered before.

The countdown began in earnest. Eric and Mary eyeballing me as Prom drew near. Like I was going to try that shit again.

“No.” I bit out, turning up my nose at Eric’s offer of a handful of his disgusting pickle flavored chips. “Does everything you put in your fucking mouth have to have phallic connotations?” He was grinning at me as he tossed one in his open mouth and made an indecent moan. “Ugh. Gross.”

“Was the ‘no’ for the chips, or because I asked if you wanted us to save you a seat in our limo?” Mary grinned, knowing my head was going to explode if I had to be asked this stupid fucking question one more time.

“Both.” I snapped, taking a drink of juice. “You both know that I’ve had my fucking fill of dances at this fucking hellhole.” They snickered. “And NO I don’t care that Prom,” I rolled my eyes and practically spit out the word, “is happening at the country club. I don’t go to THAT hellhole when Mom and Dad beg, why would I willingly go for this?”

“Didn’t Coach ask you?” Eric asked, putting on a pout. I glared at him. “Ah, come on, Amara, it’s NOT like you’re an ADULT or something.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t fucking see what the big fucking deal is. Your parents know, they condone it,” I snorted. “OK, so they won’t let you have raunchy sleepovers with Coach Big Dick, but they aren’t having his ass arrested for ‘grooming you’.” I bit my lip wishing I hadn’t told his sorry ass about that. “Why can’t you fucking come?”

“I don’t think her ‘fucking cumming’ is an issue,” Mary offered with her own evil grin. “I mean, have you seen her AFTER she ‘updates his grade book’?” Shit, they were gonna kill me. “I kind of want to find a grade book of my own to update.” Dear fucking God. I laughed in spite of myself. “I’m not sure Coach wants to spend another night at ANOTHER school dance. He looked like murdering the entire group of kids was on his mind, when it wasn’t laser focused on killing Joe.”

I sighed at the memory of that night and the two weeks that led up to it. “How is Joe?” I asked, shooting Mary a look.

“Big and pea brained.” She offered with a shrug. “He was a ‘fun’ distraction.” Mary offered me a loaded look. “Not repeatable.” Yeah, that was Joe.

“Didn’t think you’d take him to the Prom.” I offered, and she grinned. “Steven is still on Eric’s menu, I see.”

“Hush, whore,” he grinned at me, licking his fingers of the salty dill flavor that I could smell from my seat. Blah. “Steven and I are fated.” I raised an eyebrow. “What? I can do monogamy.”

“You can do a lot of fucking things, Eric, but why settle down so quick?” I asked, and realized that they both shot me a look. Pot meet kettle. Shit. “What I’m doing with-”

Eric was watching me with amusement. “Yeah, what you’re doing with dot dot dot,” he grinned, “is planning for the future. I’m not fucking saying Steven and I are necessarily end game, but he’s Mr. Right For Now.” He winked at me and I shook my head. “Did you ever read the note?” He glanced down to pick up his soda, looking uncomfortable.

“Yeah.” I breathed. I had read Negan’s note that had come with my jewelry and it had made it much easier to face Mom. Even if I had wanted to eventually, having read what he’d written had made it simple. When she jumped to the assumption that he was some creep who molded me into his perfect sex kitten, I knew that wasn’t nearly what Negan and I had. Not a tiny shred of what we were to one another had to do with him making me into what he wanted. Because in that letter he’d told me that I was already everything he could wish for. That I was IT. That he was done for with me.

“Can’t give you shit for that, not after knowing that he thinks all that about you.” Eric smiled, and took my hand. “Jealous as shit that you get to be on the receiving end of-”

“His hand, his mouth, his fucking cock.” Mary nearly moaned, lightening the mood. “Yeah, we KNOW, Eric.” She grinned and took my other hand. “We’re both green with envy, you bitch.”

Prom came and went. Negan and I went to the drive-in and got pizza on the way back to his place. We managed to eat, and we also managed to take full advantage of an entire evening without interruption. Because, even when we managed to find time, my best friends and parents managed to interrupt. Texts, calls, I was almost amazed that none of them had followed me to his place and knocked on the door. Eric and Mary wanted to double check dates for different finals. Pretty sure Mom just wanted to cock block both of us. In the end, Prom marked an end to Mary and Eric’s need for reminders. We were done. Classes over. We had our caps and gowns. We’d taken our class picture for the yearbook. Now, we only had graduation to get through.

I should have been focused on walking across the stage to get my diploma and get the accolades for my accomplishments, but mostly I was focused on the night that would follow. Negan and me, together for the entire night. We’d never slept in the same bed. Napping after sex didn’t count, not really. And showering, a hot flash of heat ran straight through me at the thought of Negan wet and naked. Fuck.

“Princess?” His voice drew me back to the pizza dinner in front of me. “Sweetheart, you just made that noise again.” Deep, raw, and needy. That's how his voice sounded. I bit my lip and his eyes were drawn to the movement. “What made you make that noise?” He went back to studying my full face.

“Pizza?” I offered, hoping for a second to calm now the almost overwhelming heat that was still burning through me.

He shook his head, fuck he looked like a hunter. “Don’t think so.” I waited. “You haven’t taken a bite of your slice, Amara.” Oh, fuck. “What idea just ran through that overactive brain of yours, honey?”

Damn it, I felt like I’d been running a fucking marathon I was so fucking thirsty. “Graduation night.” His eyes flashed and I saw his hand fist his napkin. “And-” I stopped and took a breath to still the raging horniness that was risking to take over my entire body and force me to crawl across the fucking table to tackle him. “I was thinking about the stuff we haven’t done. As a couple.”

Negan tilted his head and waited. Fuck. Teacher mode, twelve o’clock.

“We’ve never actually slept in the same bed.” I offered, and he squinted, knowing that passing out wouldn’t have me making THAT noise. “And,” I licked my lip at the mere thought of his body dripping with water. “Showering.”

That’s all it took. I thanked God he’d put the pizza box on that bar of his, because the paper plates that held my slice and what had been left of his were swept onto the floor, unopened cans of soda, gone. And then I was on the fucking table and he was devouring me.


	8. No More Excuses...If You're Still Reading, Then I'm Still Writing

It was dinner night with my parents. Negan, who my mother incessantly persisted in calling “Mr. Negan”, sitting across from me as we discussed the plans she made for my graduation. Luckily I’d talked her out of a full blown party, much to Eric’s disgust. That boy would back my mom’s need for attention and ceremony until the day I died, and then he’d back her plans for a fucking statue in my honor if there’d be a fucking celebration.

“We’ll have dinner at the club.” Mom was announcing, guess since I vetoed the party I’d used up my decision allowance for my graduation aftermath. “Mr. Negan, you’ll be joining us?”

Negan was trying to get through his salad as my bare toe was sliding up and down his ankle across the width of the table. And he nearly missed the question, but I nudged him and tilted my head toward Mom. “Yes,” he nodded, swallowing the last bite he’d taken finally. “I’ll be there for my girl.” I bit my lip and smiled.

“Yes, well, that will make us a party of,” she stopped and I noticed that she had a fucking notepad beside her plate. How had I missed that? She was checking down the list and came up with her final tally. “Eleven, wait, Mara?” I met her eyes. “Is Eric’s young man coming?”

I considered the question. “I’m not sure, Mom, Eric didn’t say.” Hell, I hadn’t known until this dinner that she’d invited Mary and Eric’s families to the country club dinner.

“Could you check?” She asked, and then stared at me. “Mara, could you check?”

I’d turned my attention back to Negan, and his very very sexy ankle against my toe, so I was a bit distracted. “Now?” I asked, shocked by the very thought of my mother condoning cell usage at the dinner table.

Mom rolled her fucking eyes and I felt the twitch of Negan’s chuckle clear down to his damn feet. “Yes, Mara, NOW. You graduate in two days, I have to give the club our total for the table arrangement.” She gave a long suffering sigh. “I know the phone is in your pocket, I’ve heard it vibrate five times since you sat down.”

Jesus. I pulled it out of my pocket and opened up the messenger and felt her disapproval so hot on me that I burned. Oh, so I should CALL. Fuck. I hit Eric’s contact button and waited patiently as it rang.

“What the fuck?” He answered and I grinned. “You have the WORST timing, bitch.” Oh, I interrupted him and Steven.

“Hello, Eric.” He was allowed to be normal, but my sorry ass was sitting with my mother. “Mom wanted to know if Steven and his family should be added to the list of attendees to OUR graduation dinner at the club.” It took everything inside of me to stop my eyes from rolling at the sound of my forced formality.

I could hear him press the cell to some part of his fucking body while he conferred with Steven. After a little rustling, Eric was back. “Add three, Steven, his mom, and his sister.”

“Great, have a good night, Eric.” I could feel Negan’s foot against mine, and I knew he could tell exactly what I’d interrupted by the sound of my voice. I hung up and looked at my mom.

“Three more.” She made a note. “Steven, his sister, and his mom.”

She tsked. “Another broken home.” Oh for fuck’s sake. “Oh well, it’ll be just as well. Fourteen is a nice even number.”

“Plus when thirteen dine together, the first to rise is the first to die.” She shot me a fucking look that I wished I’d captured on film. “Sorry, Harry Potter reference.”

“Could you please NOT make those kinds of ‘references’ during dinner, Mara.” Mom was looking down at her list. “Mary doesn’t have her own young man, does she?”

I almost choked on my own bite. Fuck. “Not currently.” Or one she’d want to introduce to your uptight ass, I added internally.

Mom nodded absently. “Fourteen of us, should I order ahead?”

“You want to pre-order our meals?” I asked, feeling astonished. “Mom, can’t this be just a bit more casual?”

“Casual?” She said the word as though it were foreign. “Would you rather have a barbecue?” Another word she said like it was unheard of. “Or a clambake?”

No, I thought, I’d rather we used part of my trust fund to pay for the surgery to remove the stick up your ass. “Of course not, Mom, but let’s not go overboard.”

“Overboard,” she didn’t say it like she’d said ‘barbecue’ or ‘clambake’, but as though I’d given her a fucking better idea. “We could do it aboard one of the boats.” Fuck.

“Please, sweet baby Jesus, no.” I couldn’t stop the eye roll at her gasp at me using Christ’s name in vain. “Mom, dinner, that’s it. Please.”

“I suppose you’re not against gifts as well?” She asked, staring at me with a calculated stare. Fuck. “I didn’t think so.” Mom shook her head. “Fine. No boat, just dinner.” She looked like I’d told her that Neiman Marcus stopped carrying her favorite perfume. “It’ll have to do, I suppose.”

Negan’s foot was touching my bare skin and I wanted him so badly, if only to take my mind off my fucking tension. The main course went faster. When I passed on dessert I could sense ALL their eyes on me. “What?”

“You never skip dessert,” my dad, usually so quiet, answered, staring at me as though I’d grown horns and started speaking in a demon tongue. “Ever.”

I shrugged, but felt Negan staring a hole through me. “I just feel very FULL right now.” I looked across the table at Negan and continued. “Like I couldn’t eat another bite.” Get me out of here and I’ll happily swallow you, was being telegraphed straight to him.

“You know what?” Negan took up the torch like I’d prayed he would. “I don’t think I could possibly fit another bite in either.” His eyes were burning into mine. Unless it’s a bite of you, his eyes read. Fuck. I twitched, my toe slipping up and down his ankle a little higher.

“Go,” my mother bit out. “But do put your shoes back on, Mara, it’s unsanitary to be barefoot during dinner.” I nearly laughed, nearly. How the fuck did she know? “Don’t forget to be home by one.” Ah, I loved being an adult with a fucking curfew.

I slipped my ballet slipper back on and stood up without looking at Negan. If I caught his eye, I’d burst. Period. I stopped long enough to kiss Mom on the cheek and smile at my dad as he glanced up from his cheesecake. “Night,” I offered, and Negan met me at the doorway and he offered his own parting.

Our hands were linked as we left the house to get in his car. “Your mom is observant, princess.” He said, grinning as he held open my door. “Too fucking observant.”

I laughed as I got into the car. She was. Uncomfortably so.

Negan parked the car in his spot outside his bachelor pad. “I have an early gift for you.” I turned to him and licked my lips with a smile. “Not that, sweetheart, you get that every damn day for eternity.” My grin grew. He reached over and opened the glove box and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to me and sat back, waiting.

Luckily his spot was under one of the bright street lamps, so I could read the letter I pulled out. I bit my lip, my heart pounding. “You got offered a job near my college?” It was a whisper, but I was in shock. “I didn’t even know-”

“I didn’t want to get our hopes up, Amara.” He was watching me, I could tell, and I bit my lip to stop myself from tossing the letter and jumping him. “It’s alright, isn’t it?”

I sat the letter down on the dash and turned to face him, unbuckling my seat belt. “One day, very very soon, Coach, I’m going to teach you to read the fucking room.” And then I was on his lap and showing him just how very happy I was with his gift.

It was eleven o’clock and we were wrapped up together in his bed. My head on his chest, our legs tangled and our skin pressed tight against one another’s. I was running my fingers through his chest hair, along his abdomen and back up again. Tired, pleasantly so, but also just relishing the feel of how normal this felt. Him and me. In bed, during the afterglow.

“Do you have to live in the dorm?” We’d started talking about the arrangements for our future.

I shook my head, “No, Mom made a stink and talked the school out of enforcing the rule. For all I know they rewrote it.” I smiled as I kissed his chest. “I already have a townhouse, you know?”

“I keep forgetting that I’m with an ACTUAL fucking princess.” He chuckled. “Guess house hunting is out for us?”

I propped my chin on his chest and looked up so I could meet his eyes. “Do you want to go house hunting?” His thumb met my cheek and I leaned into his touch.

“Eventually, if you want to, yes.” His thumb pad brushed my lower lip. “I want everything with you, Amara Kendall. Every single fucking thing.”

I kissed his thumb and smiled. “I think we should have a bit of a talk.” He looked scared and I giggled. “Not THAT talk, Negan.” I started to tell him just how much of a ‘princess’ I really was.


	9. You Were Expecting a Sassy Smart Ass Title...Yeah, I'm Fresh Out...Have Some Smut Instead?

Mom powered through with the graduation dinner decisions, tossing out questions that I was terrified to even contemplate the meaning behind.

“Mr. Negan? Is he planning on wearing a suit to dinner?” I rolled my eyes so hard at the repeated use of ‘Mr. Negan’ that I may have gone temporarily blind. “Mara! Please answer me.” Shit.

“Negan, Mom, that’s his name. Negan. Like Cher. Or God.” I nearly fell over trying to stop myself from laughing. She was glaring at me. Fuck. “I’m not sure what he’s planning on wearing, honestly.” If I had my way, we’d skip dinner and get to naked fun times at his place, but no, we’d be forced to sit through multiple fucking courses with our parents and suck it up. Instead of sucking him- Shit. “Do you want me to check?” It was midday, he was in class, and I was being lazy waiting for shit to finish up. We had two more days until kickoff. Or whatever sports term worked for finally being open and out with our relationship.

“Please.” She sounded as done with me as I felt about her right now. “Let me know, and if he could tell you the color and pattern.” I nearly broke a rib holding back the hilarity of asking Negan what color and pattern he’d chosen to wear for dinner. Jesus.

“Sure, Mom.” I rushed back up the stairs to my bedroom. Oh the text shit I was going to get for this.

**Boop.**

I waited, knowing that he was a bad Coach who kept his cell in his pocket ‘just in case’. Usually those ‘just in case’ situations came out with him asking for strength to get through the day. And ‘strength’ was code for pics of me. Usually clothed. Usually.

**Boop right back at you, sweetheart.**

Is it normal to HEAR the voice of the person texting, because I swear to God I could hear his. I smiled like a goofy teenager and typed Mom’s most important inquiry.

**Mom is losing her shit. Are you, Mr. Negan, planning on wearing a suit to dinner? BTW BONUS points if it’s your birthday suit. I am SO down with you naked like a buffet for me.**

I laid back on my pillows, letting my mind wander to naked Negan. I was just about to go to my very happy place when my phone dinged.

**JESUS, Princess, could you NOT while I’m in the middle of fucking softball.**

Oops. I waited, knowing he’d get himself under control eventually. It took a few beats more than the first answer. I was trying to hold back giggles at the image of him dropping the phone in the field.

**I just had a rush of horror at Eric FINALLY seeing my damn birthday suit, fuck. Yes, I’m wearing a suit. Don’t I have to at THE CLUB.**

Eric seeing Negan naked did it. My laughter hit hard and long. Shit. Oh my fucking God. I was brushing away tears so I could ask the follow up.

**Eric wishes for that daily, my darling. Mom also wanted to know if you have a color scheme picked out.**

I waited, deciding to fuck with Eric while I let Negan decide if he was one of the Queer Eyes or the Straight Guy in his fashion sense.

**Tried to get Coach to go Full Monty for graduation dinner. No go. He’s afraid you’d smack me away from my present. Bitch, you ruin everything.**

I was considering my own outfit choices for under that cap and gown ensemble that we were doomed to wear when the first response came in.

**RUIN? Look here, you thirsty whore, you’re only scared that I’d take that cock in hand and he’d never give you another glance. Although, it begs the question. Do you have nudie pics of Coach? Share, bitch, you owe me.**

I didn’t have a chance to answer because Negan popped up with his own answer.

**My carpet matches the drapes, sweetheart, you know that.**

For fuck’s sake, these two were going to kill me with laughter. Sighing, I sent Negan’s text first. After all, seeing him naked was a joy that I wanted to be given without the inability to sit down.

 **Suit colors, babe. Mom probably wants to match the fucking centerpiece to your tie. Love you, and I wasn’t kidding about naked buffet you. I get a present, righ** t?

Then because Eric was being so agreeable, I flicked through the multitude of photos I had of Negan, because if I shared, then he had to, too. I found one that was just of his very happy trail, on his very lickable stomach and pressed forward on it to Eric. Suck on that, bitch.

Seconds, literally mere seconds and again my phone was dinging like a mad cow on crack.

**Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all the fucking saints. You get to fucking touch THAT? You are a horrible, no good, fucking--**

I was grinning at the knowledge that I tortured Eric for daring to ask for more knowledge of just how fucking lucky I was to have Negan’s naked body to play with on the regular. Opening up Coach’s message, I smiled.

**Pretty damn sure it’s blue. And the tie? Some kind of fucking striped pattern? I don’t fucking know. Tell her I look like a pit boss in Atlantic City when I wear it. Should fucking help, right? As for that naked buffet, only if I get a matching one from you, princess.**

Damn it. I was nearly panting by the end. Would we ever get over the rush of sex together? Would it stop being like it was now, breathtaking and mind altering? Because I fucking hoped not. Mary texted while I was standing in front of my closet trying to decide what I hated least.

**Torturing your friends is NOT an ok past time. BTW Dear Fucking GOD.**

I snorted and rolled my eyes. Of course he shared. I would expect nothing less. They were my circle. What one got, the other got. Which made me groan. FUCK. I forgot to go shopping for presents for the two of them, and add one into the mix for Steven. Shit.

**I’m heading out to shop. I’ll have my cell on me, but wanted to tell you, unless you want me to swing by school and remind you of all the ways I love you.**

I was down the stairs, yelling to let Mom know I was heading out when his reply hit.

**I’m ALWAYS up for a visit from you, Princess. School’s almost out though, how about I join you at the mall?**

I snorted. Negan at the mall. Then reconsidered. We were going public. That was the plan all along after we’d gotten back together, once his divorce was finalized. Why not?

**Sure. Text me when you get there and I’ll tell you where I’m at.**

I went to the first clothing store I came to that didn’t sell my mother’s favorite designers, and went through racks to look for an outfit for graduation. Nothing in my closet worked, and I really wanted to wear something nice for our first really official thing. As a couple. If Negan could wear a suit, then I wanted to look good for him too.

I found it in the second store. Like my Spring Formal dress, it looked more like lingerie, but unlike that dress, this one would scandalize the country club, my mother, and possibly force Negan to cut dinner short. Matching shoes, with the memory of how much he liked the ones I’d worn that night, were simple. Three straps and heels that weren’t going to kill me, but would possibly give Negan all the right ideas. I swiped my card and heard the ding of my phone at the same time.

**Where can I find you, princess?**

I smiled, taking the well wrapped dress and shoes stowed in a lovely shopping bag from the cashier and typed in my response as I walked. I picked the food court, not too far from where I’d found the dress and more likely near where he had parked.

**I see you.**

I looked up and there he was. In jeans and a t-shirt looking like he’d taken the time to shower after class. I licked my lips, because of all the edibles in the food court, I knew hands down which one I’d choose.

“Hey you,” he pulled me into his arms and I grinned. “You smell so fucking good, sweetheart.” His nose was buried in my hair and I snuggled into his chest.

“This is new.” I smiled up at him as he pulled away to take my hand, linking our fingers. “Two days too long of a wait, Coach?”

“An hour at this point is too fucking long, Amara.” He was walking in the direction opposite where I’d come from. “Shit,” he stopped looking down at me. “Where are we going?”

I laughed, he was so intent on being with me that he wasn’t even paying attention to why we were here. “I need to pick up some presents for Mary, Eric, and I guess, Steven.” His fingers linked with mine felt so natural that I didn’t pay attention to whether anyone was watching. Who cared?

“What do you have in mind?” He was smiling and I knew that he was just as happy to have time out in public as I was.

We had fun shopping. Actual fun. It was mind blowing that we’d never really taken a chance to do it before, since we meshed so well with it. I had a feeling that he had MORE fun picking out Eric’s tiara than me. Finding bigger and gaudier ones by the moment.

“My mom is going to go apocalyptic if he puts that on during dinner.” I nodded. Yep, that was the one. It was regal, of that there could be no doubt. “I love you, do I say that often enough?” He pulled me into his arms while I was paying, wrapping himself around me from behind and propping his head on top of mine.

“I could stand to hear it more often.” He moved his head to kiss the side of my neck as the salesman smiled at us. “I love you, too, Amara.” He breathed a wonderfully wicked and hot idea into my ear and I felt my eyes flutter shut as the credit card machine rang out the finalization of my sale.

He took the bag and pulled me from the store. We walked with purpose, retracing our steps to the food court and through the mall’s main entrance. His car was on an outer boundary, and if I was in a teasing mood I’d have compared his parking spot to a serial killer’s lookout. My mind wasn’t on teasing. Not at the moment.

He had the doors opened, my bags in the front seat and me in the back before either of us could even say another word. And then his mouth was on mine and I was yanking his t-shirt off and my panties were gone. Dear fucking god, I thought as I flicked open his jeans and his mouth met my neck. “I swear to fucking Christ,” he was muttering and then he was inside of me and we stopped using words altogether.

It was fast and furious. Need and want and teeth and nails. His windows were so fogged up that no one could have seen inside even if we weren’t parked in the most hidden spot that the mall had to offer. I swore, as we were pressed together panting afterwards, that there was no way that it would ever stop being like this. Shouldn’t we have passed the honeymoon phase by now?

Negan’s face was pressed into the crook of my shoulder and my face was pressed against his bare chest. “I fucking love you, Amara.” I felt his lips kissing my skin, tasting the salt of the sweat we’d worked up. “Every fucking inch of you. Every single moment we have together. Fucking worth anything I have to give.

I kissed his chest with a smile on my lips. “You’re a marvel.” His chuckle vibrated against my lips as I kissed my way up to his neck. “You are a goddamn marvel, Negan, and I adore you from top to bottom.” He was still laughing. “OK, not your feet, and maybe not your butthole.” I shrugged, nipping at his jaw. “If you’re into the butt stuff, Eric’s at expert level there.”

“I think I’m OK with my ass not getting that kind of ‘love’.” He was smiling as our lips met and I swore his grin only grew.


	10. Graduation Night...A Queen, A Princess, and A King...Maybe the Titanic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely forgot to do this last night/this morning:
> 
> @JDMsNegan is the shiz...if you know you know. 
> 
> For her, Eric became his true form. ValeDICtorian...LOL *Also some of the Titanic is her brainchild as well..*

I blinked, I swear I must have blinked because it was THE DAY. Graduation day. I felt like I’d counted down since the first day of school, so how did I miss the last two days?

Negan woke me with a phone call as the sun had just peeked above the horizon. “Morning, Amara.” I smiled at the gruff tone of his voice. He must have just woken up. “Just think, princess, tomorrow at this time we won’t need the fucking phone to have this conversation.”

I settled back into my pillows. “Maybe we should keep them fully charged, just in case face to face is awkward.” His laugh was as low as his voice. I hummed. “I get to wake up in your bed, with your naked skin pressed against me, and I am fairly certain that I will think I’ve died and gone to-”

“AMARA!” Fuck. “Mara, open this door right now.” For fuck’s sake.

“Hang on, Negan.” I put the phone against my chest and opened my locked door once I’d extradited myself from my bed. “What is the emergency, MOTHER?!” I could feel Negan’s laughter through the phone vibrating my chest.

“Today’s the day, sweetheart.” And behind her stood the maid of the week, carrying a huge tray. “Breakfast in bed.” Or it would have been if I’d been allowed to stay in bed. “Come on, say goodbye to Mr.-” My glare stopped her. “Say goodbye to Negan, we’ll see him later.” Yeah, WE.

“Bye, Negan.” I said, rolling my eyes as my mother ordered the maid to clear a table and round up two chairs. “I’m having breakfast **beside** my bed, apparently.” I turned away and stage whispered, “tomorrow I get to have YOU for breakfast, right?”

His laughter carried me through. Through breakfast with my mother. Through a forced spa day that I salvaged by inviting Eric and Mary along last moment. Look, it was my fucking graduation day, if I allowed myself to be tortured into hair and makeup, then I was taking my two best bitches along for the ride.

By that evening, mere hours before walking across the stage to be handed our diplomas, we were once again in my room getting ready together. I wondered, as I watched Mary tease Eric about Steven and going away for school if it would be the last time.

“Shit, I think we’ve triggered Amara’s nostalgia button.” Eric’s eyes met mine in the mirror. He came up behind me and bent down to snuggle into my back. “What’s got you looking so sad, Mara?”

“Is this the last time we do this?” I glanced around, knowing I’d be packing my room up. That I’d be moving with Negan to a different school from the two of them. I was trying hard not to look at the downside, but I loved these two assholes. “Get ready for a major thing in my room?”

“Course not,” Mary answered, cuddling into my other side. “We’ll do it when we graduate from college, different rooms, but all together. We’ll do it again when you marry Coach.” I felt my eyes go wide. “Not soon, you dumb slut, but eventually. And then when Eric calms his dick down enough to pick one, we’ll do it again then. And one day, a VERY long fucking time from now, we’ll do it when I win an Oscar.”

I laughed and so did the two of them. Jesus. I was going to miss this. The two of them and me. “Texts,” I demanded, my hands grabbing one of each of theirs. “Calls, and texts, constantly.”

“Like you needed to fucking command it,” Eric rolled his eyes. “How am I gonna get that pic of Coach’s dick if I don’t stay in touch?”

Graduation itself wasn’t all that memorable. Negan in a suit was a highlight, as was the announcement that he was leaving the faculty to move on to a new opportunity. His eyes met mine in the crowd of my fellow students and he mouthed ‘I love you’. And then, it was over, and caps were tossed and we were off.

My parents insisted on driving me to dinner. A small concession, since Negan and I were leaving together. I listened as my mother babbled on and on about this person’s kid and that person’s embarrassment. When she mentioned Eric’s name I looked up.

“Why didn’t you tell us that Eric had been made Valedictorian?” Oh right.

I shrugged, my gown still covering my dress, best to leave that surprise until there were witnesses. “I guess I take for granted how smart he is.” And Mary and I had tried EVERY bribe we could to get the programs to read ‘ERIC SULLIVAN-VALE **DIC** TORIAN’. We even tried to get Negan in on it, but to no avail. The three gift bags holding Mary, Eric, and Steven’s gifts were on the floorboards, handles up so when the car stopped to let the valet park, I grabbed them in one swoop and started to get out.

“AMARA.” Fuck, what now? “The gown-” Oh right. Here goes.

I unzipped the cheap polyester graduation gown and slipped it off and tossed it into the car. Silence. Shit. “Let’s go see if our table is ready.” I tried for perky, but when I looked up I saw Mom’s mouth gaping.

“Where’s your dress?” She gasped and I felt Negan’s heat press up against my back.

“Found it,” his hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me tighter against him. “Amara, you look-” I felt exactly how he thought I looked, it was pressed against me. “Edible.”

“I really have a taste for a buffet.” I shrugged and his lips touched my cheek. “Later?”

“Not much.” He whispered, staying right behind me.

“Why would you need to eat at a buffet later?” My mom was muttering, trying NOT to draw attention to her scandalous daughter and her scandalous daughter’s date. “He really does look like a pit-boss.” Jesus, kill me now.

“Mrs. Kendall,” the host had found her in a crowd. My mom,the leader of the pack. “We have your table waiting, and I believe part of your party has already been seated.” Thank fucking god.

Eric and his family were seated. Mary and hers were seconds behind us. Then Steven and his. Once seated, Mom assuring us that she’d taken care of our orders, we settled into the faux casual conversation that came naturally to the Kendalls and anyone unfortunate enough to dine with us.

“Coach Negan,” Eric’s voice, and I was drawn out of my happy place where Negan’s hand had been playing with the bare skin of my back. “You’re getting out of town too, huh?” I bit my lip. They’d known the day after he showed me. “Wherever will you go?” His eyes were twinkling and I bit back a laugh.

Negan’s smile was evident in his voice. “I had a job offer.” He mentioned the school and my mom shot me a look. “It was too good to pass up.” I looked up at him and smiled.

“Aren’t they too freaking cute?” Eric practically squealed, causing other tables to look our way. I couldn’t have planned it better.

“Kiss me.” I whispered and Negan’s grin grew.

“Thought you’d never ask.” And his lips met mine and the room hushed. Of course, I could have just gone deaf from the actual fucking NEED I felt for him. He pulled back and rubbed my nose with his. “I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Coach.” I winked and we refocused on dinner.

Eventually the noise level rose back up. Our table wasn’t the focal point for long and we actually started to loosen up as a group. Present time came and Negan handed Eric the bag for me.

“You should know,” I said, as he started to reach inside. “Negan helped pick it out.”

Mary’s laughter was musical as Eric’s eyes widened in happiness. “You got me a fucking crown.” He perched it on his hair, and Steven, proving he was totally boyfriend worthy, fixed it so it sat just right.

“Haven’t you tried to convince me that you are a QUEEN our entire lives?” I asked, taking a sip of my water. “Figured a queen must have a crown.”

“This is why you’re my favorite.” He smirked as Mary smacked him. “I can have TWO favorites.”

My parents had given everyone a gift certificate for dinner. I got a pair of diamond earrings from Mom, the matching bracelet from Dad, and when Negan pulled a small box from his suit pocket another gasp went around the table. Not a chance, I rolled my eyes at their idiocy. The diamond necklace made the trio complete. I kissed him and he whispered just loud enough for me to hear “soon”. My stomach clenched and sighing I pulled away.

Mary had gotten me a gorgeous dress. Eric, the gift I both couldn’t wait to see, and almost wanted to open in the ladies’ room, just in case. Ripping off the wrapping paper, I heard Negan choke on the drink he’d taken as he saw what Eric had gifted me with. That little shit. A gorgeous platinum frame, with a blown up copy of the photo I’d sent him of Negan’s happy trail.

“Let’s see,” my mother urged, and I shook my head. I’d kill him. Stone cold dead.

I put my hand over the picture and held it up for her inspection. “Isn’t it the most wonderful FRAME, Mom?”

“Hand it here, the light is bouncing off it at that angle.” Fuck. Really?

“I’m afraid I’ll drop it,” please Jesus a bone. “I’ll show it to you at home.”

“Just pass it down the table, Mara.” She rolled her eyes and I wondered how many glasses of wine she’d had.

Down the table meant the frame would pass Negan, Eric, Steven, Mary, Dad, and then make it to Mom. Fuck. “Break it and I’ll promise you oral sex on demand from the moment we leave until the day I fucking die.” I offered Negan, but the devilish smile on his face told me he knew he had that already. Damn it.

And so, I watched as EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ONE, except Dad studied my hot as fuck boyfriend’s abs before it made it to Mom’s hands. And each and every one of them, from Negan on down, made a comment that could be taken in a very innocent, or very fucking dirty vein.

“The craftsmanship of this is very good, quality, but I think a couple more hours under the heat would have made it harder.” Fuck Negan.

Eric, not to be outdone, “I don’t know Coach, do you really have to screw with perfection on the off chance it gets better?”

Steven was a quick study and offered this gem. “Silver, I’m sorry platinum ages so well, doesn’t it?”

And Mary, my ovaries before brovaries, winked at me and said. “Damn, these background pictures are looking close enough to touch or taste.”

Dad barely glanced at it, but then again, his meal was clearly more interesting. And then Mom. “It is a lovely frame.” She squinted. “What is this background? Some sort of mountain range?” She brought the frame closer to her face. “Why that looks just like-” And then she sat the frame down and I could see her trying to decide who to glare at first. “Put your gift away, Amara.” And the frame came back down the table, ignoring the other side with my friends’ families.

“You’re in trouble,” Negan whispered, hot against my ear. “How did Eric get that picture, Amara?” Shit, he didn’t mean with Mom.

“It was the least risque one I had.” I muttered back. “Need I remind you of the night of the cilantro?”

His chuckle vibrated my chair. “You win that one.” His hand was on my bare back again. “I want you, princess. Now.”

I bit my lip. “I think I need to excuse myself, Mom.” She met my eyes and nodded. “Dad,” he glanced up with another nod. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Or an hour.

I stepped outside of the dining room and waited. A few minutes passed and then Negan walked out. “Your mom was glaring at me the entire time I was standing up from the table, sweetheart.” He was grinning. “Looks like I’m in trouble too.”

“Come with me.” I took his hand and walked to the end of the hallway. Opening the door, we were on the dock. “Remember when Mom wanted to do dinner on a boat?”

“And you shot her down?” He smiled, tugging me closer to him. “Vaguely.”

“Wanna have dessert on one?” I tilted my head up and his grin was bright.

Now, I have to admit, when I asked to have dessert on a boat, I clearly meant sex. I meant sex in one of the below deck rooms, but sex was very high on my expectations. Negan, however, decided that sex below deck in a comfortable bed or on a sofa was too blase. We were going to have an entire night in a bed. Let’s celebrate.

And that’s how we ended up on the bow of the boat, him pressed against my back and me looking for all the world like a really strange figurehead. The skirt of my dress was already indecently short, and when he bent his knees just right, well, you get the picture. And we were in that position, fucking quietly and slowly, when my MOTHER and FATHER showed up.

“Amara? Is that you?” Please go away. “Honey, what are you to up there doing?”

Negan chose that moment to hit THAT spot and I had to bite my lip hard to stop from making a sound only dolphins would understand. “We’re,” I was breathless and strangely not anywhere near out of the mood. “Reenacting that scene from Titanic.” Call me fucking brainless, but he shifted again and I lost my entire mental functions.

“Titanic?” Negan’s lips were touching the shell of my ear and I had to swallow a moan. “Like my-”

“OH MY GOD!” Eric, of course, with Steven. My night is complete. “What are you two up there doing?” You know, because you’re at just the right angle, is that your phone?!

“You two look so darling up there,” my mom was saying, and I shit you not, drew her own phone out. “Let me take a photo, so you can have it forever.”

Sure, of us screwing on a boat that doesn’t belong to us, on graduation night, during dinner. Fuck. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Kendall, I’ve got it!” Eric’s voice rang out. “I’m sure the angle from here is MUCH CLEARER.”

Negan bit into my neck slightly as he rushed over taking me breathless along with him. Fuck. Shit. “Damn, sweetheart, I think-Fuck.” Yeah, no shit. He held me as we both got our breath back, me assuring Mom we’d be in to say goodnight shortly and throwing Eric such a death glare that he should have keeled right the fuck over.

“See you inside, PRINCESS.” Eric offered over his shoulder with a wink. UGH.

Negan was cleaning me up once our audience left and I was trying desperately to not toss myself into the man-made lake. His laughter made me look down. “You do know that Eric saw not just your dick, but your dick in action, right?”

He nodded and looked up at me. “He definitely did, but fuck if I don’t want a copy of it.”

I found myself laughing. I swear I was surrounded by crazy people. “Thank god for Mom’s wine intake.” I offered as he stood and kissed me. “Otherwise she might have asked why you weren’t screaming you were ‘king of the world’.”

“Gotta save something for home.” And our laughter rang out across the lake.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dessert and HOME, finally...

Negan and I, given half a choice, would have gone back inside the club, said our goodbyes, and been groping one another in his car within minutes of leaving that boat. We didn’t have half a choice, my mother had planned the evening, remember?

We got back inside, and I swear, I could FEEL the looks we got from other tables burning into us. Probably no one knew a fucking thing, but Mary knew, I could tell from the way she was biting her lip to keep from laughing. And I saw, with tight lips, when she handed Eric his goddamn cell phone back. Shit.

Negan held my chair for me and I felt his chuckle. Damn it. I sat and noticed him and Eric sharing a look and had to hold back an eye roll. Fuckers.

“Re-enacting the Titanic,” I heard Eric mutter from down the table as I focused on my damn plate. “More like taking Coach’s huge iceberg of a-”

He was interrupted by our desserts, actual sugary versions this time. Thank fucking Hell. Mom had outdone herself with the planning for this party, she’d clearly wanted to make an impression on those tables that were sad enough to be seated near our group. Four separate cakes, different flavors, not huge, but with sparklers flickering on each one came carried by four servers.

“For our graduates!” My mom smiled down the table at us, and I knew she was enjoying every damn eye on our table. Jesus. I was currently commando with the shortest dress imaginable, my best friends had seen my man’s dick inside of me, and that same man’s hand had found my knee under the damn table. Shit.

“Negan,” I whispered as the servers made their way around the table offering each of us a choice of cake or choices, shit we were being indulgent. They were starting at different sides, and I’d already turned down two. “Sweetheart. Darling.” His fingers were sliding up my inner thigh and I swallowed so hard that I felt like someone HAD to hear me. “You have to move your hand.”

“Do I, princess?” His fingertip was NEARLY where he clearly wanted it. “Why did you part your knees, sweetheart?” Fuck, because I’m powerless when you touch me? Because I want your hands every-damn-where right the fuck now. In fact, just fucking lift me onto the table in front of you and start our own celebration right here. His lips touched my earlobe and I felt myself twitch all over. “You want my hand where it is, don’t you, Amara?” Another hard swallow from me. “You want me to touch you right,” his fingertip brushed my damp lips, “here, don’t you?” I had to fight myself to keep from lurching up to have more contact. “You want me, sweetheart, but we’re gonna have to fucking have a slice of cake, and then we’re gonna gather the gifts, say goodnight, and I’m taking you out to my car and I’m fucking you so hard and fast that what we did on that damn boat is gonna be a fucking memory.” Shit. “Then we’re going home, and I’m going to unwrap MY gift,” me, clearly. “And I’m going to have my REAL dessert.” Fuck. His hand left and I felt my breathing return to normal.

I have no clue what type of cake I had. Not a fucking clue one. No idea. The flavor? Not Negan. That’s all I could work through my mind.

Conversation? Sure, it buzzed around me. Did I talk? Maybe? I have no fucking memory of it. From the moment he told me exactly what he planned on after cake, my entire brain shut down. I could have sworn that my entire body was on fire and vibrating from NEED. We’d just had sex. And yet, there I was, literally holding myself at bay from ripping his fucking suit off and riding him at the table, surrounded by family, friends and former classmates, and I don’t think I would have noticed the fucking audience. Shit. This man had destroyed me.

If we ever break up again, might as well just count me out and I’ll become a damn nun because NO ONE would ever be able to do what he could. A word, a touch, a look and I was ready. Multitasking? Not where Negan was concerned. He spoke, and I went on full frontal sexual preparedness. Jesus.

We must have said goodbye to everyone. I must have hugged my parents, Eric and Mary. I had to have. It would have been weird not to. Yet, my mind was zeroed in on nothing more than his car, and HIM. Damn it.

The night air was slightly chilled when we exited the front doors. Negan set my bag of gifts down and shrugged off his suit jacket and slung it over my bare shoulders. Then my hand was in his and we were at his car. The doors opened, the gifts tossed into the trunk and then I was on top of his lap and he was fulfilling the first of his promises for the night ahead.

When we got to Negan’s apartment, I pulled the bag I’d packed and stowed days earlier in his trunk. Little did Coach know, but I wasn’t his only gift. We’d barely closed the door when he had me back in his arms.

“How are you still horny?” My smile against his lips couldn’t be held back. Jesus, he should bottle his stamina. “Give a girl a minute, Coach, she’s not as young as she used to be.” He laughed into my mouth and pulled me with him to sit on the couch. I curled into his side after tossing my heels. “Ugh, heels.” Moving so I was laying back against one of the sofa arms, he pulled my feet onto his lap and his hands met my tender feet and he started massaging gently. Closing my eyes at the feeling of the kinks being worked out of my sore feet, I smiled. “You really are a man of many talents.”

“Don’t know about that.” His hands were massaging up my ankle. “Figured if you fucking wore those things the entire night, you might need a little rub down.” I could hear the smile in his own voice.

Cracking my eyes open, I studied him. His stark white button down shirt, the blue striped tie, his hair combed back from his forehead Negan was gorgeous. That wasn’t an exaggeration. He was so fucking handsome that I couldn’t fucking take it. I licked my lips and he looked up at me. “Do that again, and I won’t finish your massage, princess.” Damn it, his voice had that tone. The ‘Coach is HUNGRY’ tone.

“I have a present for you.” His smirk made me roll my eyes. “You get that ALL the damn time, Negan.” I reluctantly moved my feet from his lap and hands. I grabbed my bag from where he’d dropped it by the door. When I got back to the couch with it, I noticed how intently he was watching me. Pretty fucking sure large predator cats could take a page out of his playbook on attention to their prey. I pulled a large gift box from inside my bag and handed it to him. “I saw this, a few days ago, and it screamed Coach Negan.”

I watched, waiting as he untied the bright red ribbon, carefully tugging it away and opening the box with far more precision than I’d expected. Then the top was gone, the tissue paper parted, and he sat staring down. Damn it. Had I picked wrong?

“You saw this and it screamed me?” His eyes met mine and I could see his dimples come out to play. Whew. I nodded with a small smile. “Oh, sweetheart.” I bit my lip and he was about to toss the gift, still settled in the bottom of the box on the coffee table and unwrap his second gift, but I stopped him.

“Try it on, Negan.” He bit his lip and I shook my head. “It’s gotta look better than a pitboss, right?” His chuckle made me giggle. And he stood up and pulled it out of the box. Black leather, old school biker jacket, the zippers blinding silver. He started to pull it on, but I stood up to help. “Allow me, Coach.” He bent down a bit, and I held it open for him. Wrapping my arms around him from the back, zipping the zipper up from behind. “Turn.” And there it was...fuck. I licked my lips again, and that was all it took. We spent the rest of the night unwrapping and enjoying our presents, over and over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truth time: I have never read, nor done research on Negan's backstory (comics). If I haven't heard it in the show, then I know nothing. I have no idea where his damn jacket came from, so in MY story it's coming from Amara.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after graduation...waking up with Negan...SHIT.

Waking up in Negan’s arms was something that I was ecstatic that I would get to experience more often. I snuggled into his warmth, smiling at the realization that in a few weeks I’d get to see his face first thing every single morning for the foreseeable future. Hearing his light moan when my bare leg brushed his hardness, my own tingle started to grow. 

Negan’s face buried in my shoulder, where my hair had tangled when he’d pulled it free from the pins I’d worn to graduation. “Morning, princess.” Fuck, his voice COULD get deeper, harsh from sleep, and I’d kill to keep hearing it. “I can’t wait to get used to waking up like this.” Yearning, and tempting, and fuck. 

Our lips met and I straddled his body. Pulling away from his kiss, I studied him lying beneath me on his pillow. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you from this angle, Negan.” His hands were on my waist and I bit my lip. “I like it.” 

“Like being on top?” His hips thrust up and I lost my train of thought. “Well, come on, princess show me what you can fuckin’ do.” A dare? Fuck.

Smirking down at him, I let my fingers start at his face, tracing the lines that I knew like I knew my own. Licking my lips, I smiled as he kissed my fingers as they passed over his. “I like the stubble, Coach.” Would it be considered a five o’clock shadow in the morning? I didn’t care, I loved it. “Makes me wonder how that’s going to feel-” I was momentarily distracted by my own thought, fuck. I had to take a deep breath to refocus. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I let my fingers trail down his neck, touching his sternum, tracing the tattoo on his chest, and smiling when he took his own deep breath. “You OK, Negan? Do you want something?” My eyes met his and I could see it, his absolute need to take charge, but he was fighting it. “Ask me, and I’ll give you anything.” 

“Fuck, princess,” it was a growl, pure and simple and I knew he could feel how wet that alone made me. “Put me inside of you al-fucking-ready.” I bit my lip and gave him what he wanted, what we both wanted. “Shit.” 

My eyes closed at the feeling. This angle. This depth. I was undone almost immediately. My breath left me and I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to. Damn. I’d been on his lap. I’d had him inside of me as I was technically on top of him, but this? Dear fucking God. 

“Sweetheart, open your eyes.” Swallowing hard, I did, and saw him staring up at me with a look I couldn’t untangle with my currently over stimulated mind. “Rock your hips for me, Amara, come on, princess.” My body complied and the noise I made was a new one for both of us. Shit. “FUCK.” And then I was under him again. Thank God. “Not sure we’d survive that just yet, baby.” 

Negan would always be far better in control of our lovemaking than me. I’d happily concede defeat to him. And as he brought me across another finish line, over and over, I realized that this would be our new normal. Very soon I’d be waking up next to him daily. I also knew that Negan would make it routine to feel the same satisfaction and completion every single fucking day. Showering, which we did as soon as my legs would hold my weight again, making breakfast together, sitting on the couch, touching anytime we wanted, all of this would be our life. And I couldn’t fucking wait to get started. 

I was putting my stuff back in my bag when he came into the bedroom. His eyes watched my every move and I was waiting for Negan to tempt me away from my mundane task. Instead, his body pressed against my back and he propped his chin on the top of my head. “Don’t leave.” Wait, what? “This is gonna be permanent eventually, so let’s just say ‘fuck it’ and go all in now.” 

My hands stopped and I waited for more, but nothing came. He was still as a stone and I realized he was waiting for me. “You want me to move in NOW?” I wanted to be sure that he meant it. That he didn’t just want an extended overnight. 

“Only if you want-” I startled him by turning and pulling his head down to my level.

“Seriously, Negan, we’re gonna have to work on reading the fucking room.” Kissing him with every fucking ounce of my love, I hoped that he understood, but just in case I pulled away to ask my own question for clarification. “When can we go pack my shit up for the first move?”


	13. Has Anyone Noticed I've Stopped Trying with the Chapter Names?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving day, well the first moving day... Distractions. Of course there would be distractions, we're packing up a room that has a huge bed in it.

My parents took the news that Negan and I would be cohabitating earlier than expected better than either of us thought possible. OK, Mom took it better, Dad may have been nodding off. I almost wondered when Dad would notice I was gone. Maybe when the dining room table became one person short? Maybe not.

A new deal was struck. Negan and I would pack up my things in my room, some would go with me to his apartment, the rest would wait until our final move to the townhouse near college. For her agreeable disposition over this new arrangement, we were expected to attend family dinner at least twice a week, including the night we packed.

Which was how Negan and I ended up in my bedroom, surrounded by boxes, tape, and bubble wrap making difficult decisions like ‘does my ass look too fat in this to keep’ over dresses, skirts, and even the occasional jeans and pants. Some things were easy to deal with, all the bathroom stuff could go to his house, most of my clothes and shoes, but the furniture was the biggest question mark.

“How big is the townhouse?” He asked, looking at my bed with far more interest than he had during his first visit to my bedroom.

“Three bedrooms, two and a half baths, why?” I asked, watching him in the mirror of my vanity. His eyes met mine and I felt my stomach flip and then tighten. Shit.

His hands and fingers were testing the four iron posts of my bed that had been twisted and fashioned to look like spindly tree limbs. His eyes left mine to study the canopy made of metal leaves. I watched his hands clutch against every twisted limb, as though he were checking to see how sturdy the metal really was. I felt my breath catch as he caught me watching him.

Negan’s smile had my heart thumping hard and fast, taking one of his hands away from its exploration of my bed, I felt the breath leave me when he crooked his finger at me. “Do you trust me, sweetheart?”

Swallowing hard, I turned away from where I’d been gathering my makeup from the vanity and fully faced him. “Of course I do.” Even if my pulse is pounding like a jackhammer at the mere look in your eyes, I thought.

“Come here, baby.” Low, dark, and very promising was the tone he was using. And, like I was helpless anytime he turned that dark gaze of his my way, I complied easily.

When I was within touching distance, when I could feel the very heat of him, he pulled out three long silky scarves my mom had bought me that I hadn’t ever used and was certain I’d put in the discard pile from his pocket. “Negan?” I felt the fluttering of nerves begin in my stomach.

“You trust me.” Not a question this time, but a statement. Another hard swallow and a nod from me, just to remind myself that I DID trust him. “I promise you’ll like this.”

The darkest silk scarf he tied around my eyes. Not tight enough to be uncomfortable, but enough so I couldn’t see him or the light that was still pouring through my windows. One sense gone, I bit my lip waiting. I could still feel the heat of him, but he’d pulled away once the makeshift blindfold was in place.

His fingertips on my bare arm startled me, making my skin pimple with gooseflesh and forcing a small gasp from my lips. I heard him chuckle softly. I stood still as his fingers traced along any skin that was already bared to his touch. I was trying to decide if wearing the sundress with a built in bra had been a stroke of genius or not when I felt his fingers slide to the short hem, grazing my bare thighs in the process. Another gasp, a slight lurch, one more chuckle.

“Raise your arms up, Amara.” Hot breath in a whisper against the shell of my ear and I did as he requested. “Good girl.” Fuck, why did I LOVE his praise so fucking much? My sundress was tugged up and off and it was his turn to let out a hiss of breath. “Maybe I spoke too soon, princess.” His hand met my bare ass, cupping the globe and making my entire body flare up with heat. “No panties?” He made a tsking sound, and gave my ass a small, yet stinging spank. “Did you want me to go back on my promise about not fucking your brains out in your parents’ house, Amara?”

“Yes,” I was biting my lip and waiting for the second smack and was rewarded for my slight.

“I think you forgot something, sweetheart.” His hand was rubbing the slight sting of my skin. “What’s the correct answer to that question, Amara?”

I felt my stomach clench at the way he sounded. The same tone as he’d had when he bent me over his desk at school, but without the heavy irritation from that time. He was playing with me this time. “Yes, SIR.” I answered after a moment’s hesitation that earned me another crack from his open palm.

“That’s my good girl.” Shit, fuck. “Trying to tempt me to go against a PROMISE I made, Amara.” Another tsk. Jesus, he was going to make it so dinner really would be torture. How the fuck was I going to explain to Mom and Dad that I had to eat standing up?

“Sir,” I was floundering inside my own mind for ways to talk him OUT of giving me what I kind of wanted, but without the horrible side effects. “I’m sorry, sir.” I wasn’t, clearly he had been thinking the same damn dirty thoughts, but fuck if I didn’t want to have to work myself through the burning aftermath.

“Maybe I should save your punishment for when we get home.” I forced myself to NOT agree. He was in charge, let him lead. “OK, sweetheart, let me help you onto the bed.” Negan guided me carefully onto the cloud that was my mattress, helping me find the propped up pillows with my head, and making certain that the blindfold didn’t come loose. “Comfortable, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir.” I smiled, and was rewarded with a kiss that lingered. Not long enough, because he pulled away and I felt his fingertips running up my left arm.

“Remember that you trust me, Amara.” Hard swallow and a deep breath before I answered in the affirmative. “Good girl.” And then I felt the silk of another scarf slide along my bare skin. “I swear that this is gonna be amazing, for both of us.” A few loops around my wrist and then I could hear the material sliding against the metal of the post to my left. It wasn’t tight, just as he’d been careful with the blindfold, he was careful with my wrist. He repeated the same teasing of the skin of my right arm, and then tied my other wrist to the opposite post. The scarves were long enough so I was bound, but I wasn’t pulled too taunt. “Fuck, that’s a picture I wish I could keep forever.” He sighed, as I felt his body leave the bed.

“You can, sir,” I offered, smiling as I listened to the telltale rustle of him removing his clothes. He chuckled and I could practically see his dimples from the sound.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, princess.” A warning, but in a tone that told me how fucking happy he was at the prospect. “Let’s make sure you like what I have planned first.”

“Yes, sir.” I sighed, as I felt the bed dip again, signalling that he was back.

After hours of Negan showing me just how much I enjoyed what he’d planned, the blindfold was gone, my wrists were free, and we were tangled up in MY bed for once. The blankets covering us, my head on his chest, we were resting before we had to get back to work. Mom was home by now, I was certain, but I was hoping that she’d stayed away because she wanted to give us time to get my things packed and NOT because she heard anything I may have moaned or screamed.

“I’m guessing you want to keep the bed?” I asked, and felt the vibration of his laughter through his chest.

“Mine doesn’t have the potential of your bed, Amara.” Potential? More like the ability to put me completely at his mercy, not that I was complaining, not really.

I smiled and kissed his chest, celebrating once again the fact that he was MINE. “This bed is pretty fucking amazing.” Propping my chin on his chest and meeting his gaze, I dropped another kiss on his chest. “Especially when it has you in it.” He pulled me to him and our lips met in another fevered kiss, but our luck had run out. A knock sounded, and we both stilled.

“Miss Kendall?” The newest maid, Anna called out and I nearly groaned in both irritation and relief. At least it wasn’t Mom.

“Yes?” I called out, nearly moaning when Negan chose that moment to flick his tongue against my neck.

“Your mother asked that I tell you that dinner will be ready in half an hour.” Fuck. She was home, we were ALMOST, but not completely finished packing, and now DINNER.

“Tell her we’ll be down in ten minutes.” Negan bit my shoulder and I closed my eyes at the horror of leaving the room without finishing what he was trying to start. “Fifteen minutes, Anna.” Another deep chuckle came from Coach, but I sighed when I felt his hands slide down my back to pull me back to him.


	14. If I Put Chapter 85 Here, Would ANYONE Notice?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving is full on exhausting. Who wouldn't need a break? Who would forget that their parents would eventually show up at their house? 
> 
> Who knew Mom could be playful?

Fourteen minutes after the maid had warned us about dinner, I was considering whether to wear the sundress Negan had so deliciously removed from me before he showed me just how amazing my bed could be. 

“I’m thinking you might want a different outfit, princess.” He offered, as he pulled his own clothes back on. “And panties, at least if you want me to be able to carry on a conversation with your mother.” 

A part of me would love to test that hypothesis. Would he be undone by the mere thought of me going sans panties? Looking into his face, I could see the temptation I had was loud and clear on my face by the wicked glint in his eyes. Yeah, he already owed me one punishment, I’d rather not add to it, just yet. 

“Here,” he tossed me an outfit that I hadn’t noticed him pick out while I was packing earlier. A short lacy skirt in blinding white, a tank like t-shirt that was loose and had one of the many literary quotes I loved most written across the bust, and a short leather jacket because he already knew that my mom would glare at the shirt on its own. Too bad, I wasn’t planning on covering up my shirt today. 

I raised an eyebrow as he also pulled out a pair of panties he hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing before today. Silky and barely a slip of fabric, his fingers slid across them before he handed them to me. “Found those as we were dumping your drawers into boxes, been holding out on me, sweetheart?” 

I smiled and pulled them up my legs to cover me. “Couldn’t let you know all my secrets, Coach.” I went to the box that held the contents of my underwear drawer. “There’s a matching-” I stopped when he held it up in front of me. “Bra.” My lips quirked as I took it from his fingers. “When did you have a chance to dig through my stuff, Negan? Were you slacking on the job?” 

Negan chuckled and sat down on my rumpled bed to watch me dress. “Some things caught my eye, Amara. I can’t fucking wait until I see you in the others.” I looked up as I tugged the shirt down over my chest. I shook my head as I watched him studying me. My skirt was up and covering the satin panties he’d chosen, but I ignored the jacket. “Won’t your mom get irritable that you’re wearing a tank to dinner, princess?” 

I was looking for a pair of shoes, since the flip flops I’d worn to pack wouldn’t cut it. “Why do I care, not like I live here anymore?” It came out muffled because I was digging through the box of shoes to find a pair that would work. “Can’t believe you picked out everything except the shoes.”

“Who said I didn’t pick out the shoes?” I looked up, bangs in my eyes to see him holding my keds. “You assumed, Amara, and you know what they say about people who assume things.” His dimples were full blown and I rolled my eyes. 

“Do you like dressing me up like a doll, babe?” I asked, as I sat down in my vanity chair. “Am I going to be Coach Negan’s personal plaything?” 

He bit his lip, and I knew I’d struck a dirty thought. “I told you before, sweetheart, you’re perfect just the way you are.” 

I tilted my head as I stood up, with a glance in the mirror I knew my hair was a loose tumble of curls now, but it looked fine. “Would it help it to know I’m not opposed to being dressed up by you?” I moved forward to where he stood waiting for me to finish. Touching his chest and looking up at him, I smirked. “It’s kind of sexy, you know? Having you choose an outfit I hope you plan on tearing off my body later.” 

He swallowed hard and then kissed me. “We should head down,” his voice was raw and I knew he’d rather toss me back on the bed and rip the outfit off now. “Before your mom sends that poor woman up to get us again.” 

Dinner wasn’t nearly as nightmarish as it could have been. We were still forced to sit across from one another, but seeing as we’d basically ridden one another into multiple lathers for hours, we made due. We were even early enough to sit in the den and managed to fit in some conversation with the parents first.

“When do you plan on leaving for the townhouse?” Mom asked, as I sat on the sofa with Negan, his hand linked with mine. 

“A few more weeks,” he answered, since his new job started before my orientation. “I have to pack up my office here, and we have to pack up my apartment, then we’ll head out.”

“All of the furniture in your rooms is yours, Amara.” Dad reminded me, shocking all of us by his presence for once in the conversation. “Take it or leave it, honey, but it’s yours.” 

“I know, Daddy.” I answered, smiling at him. “It’ll have to stay here until the moving truck comes, Negan’s place doesn’t have the room.”

We moved into the dining room and the conversation about our move, our new routine kicked into gear. Mom was reminding me, us really, that our weekly dinners could be moved to whichever day worked best for the both of us. She kept shooting me looks, but I refused to engage, mostly because talking to my MOM about why I’d been screaming Negan’s name in her house repeatedly wasn’t something I was willing to discuss or even broach at dinner. Even if Dad had returned to his usual interest in the food.

“How much of your office is going with you, Negan?” She asked, realizing I was refusing to be baited by her nonverbal interest in outing my packing procedure. 

Negan was eating his salad with a vigor of someone who’d participated in some strenuous activity. He chewed carefully as I bit my lip and stared at my own salad. “Not a lot, but enough to need Amara’s help.” My stomach clenched at the reminder of everything we’d done in his office at school. I looked up to find him smoldering at me. Fuck. 

“Of course, I’ll help,” it came out breathless, and I would have been embarrassed, but my mind was replaying me, him, and his desk on repeat in my head. 

“And I’m sure my replacement would like to have one last COMPLETE inventory.” Shit. My legs pressed together at the reminder of inventory and how being knee deep in his balls had started this entire thing. 

“That can be arranged.” Seriously, if this academia thing doesn’t work out, I could totally be a Marilyn impersonator. 

“Enough flirting,” Mom’s voice sounded almost, was she amused by us? “Eat, and then you can go back up and finish PACKING.” I chanced a glance at her and saw that her eyes were twinkling. Holy shit, she was holding back laughter. 

“We’re almost done,” I replied, keeping my eyes on hers. “There was a mild distraction.” 

“A loud distraction,” she offered, dropping her gaze and her lips quirked as she went back to eating. 

Negan’s foot met mine under the table and when my eyes met his I saw that he was barely containing his own glee. Shit. Who knew that these two would bond over my loud sex life? Shaking my head, I went back to my own food. 

We finished packing the last few things. Then Negan and I carried the boxes that held what I needed most for the remaining weeks before we did our next move down to our cars. Mom and Dad were there to hug us both, as though we wouldn’t be back within a week for another dinner, but it was nice to know they would miss me. 

“I’m glad you weren’t distracted again, at least not while your father was home.” Mom whispered in my ear, and I felt her giggle. “You two are something, aren’t you?” I pulled away, feeling the blush of embarrassment, but laughing at the insanity of how calmly she was taking hearing the two of us. 

“He wanted to make sure my bed was right for the townhouse.” I answered, giving her a wink and smirking through the heat of my face. 

“I heard.” She deadpanned, and we both giggled. Jesus, who knew? “I’m glad that the two of you are so happy.” Another surprise. I was sure she’d been taking internal bets on how long we’d last. “He loves you.” I nodded. “Good.” 

And then she released me to my dad, and took Negan in for a hug. He looked at me over her head and smiled. Then I swore he went completely pale before barking out his own laugh. Dad hugged me and told me how much he’d miss having me under his roof. I smiled and told him I was only a phone call away. He’d hugged Negan first, a shock to all of us, because Dad wasn’t really all that demonstrative, but I guess having their only child leave home was having an effect on both of my parents. 

We left in our own cars, both with boxes of my stuff inside, and as I followed him back to OUR first place, I knew this was a new beginning.


	15. Not Even Pretending Anyone Cares About Chapter Titles...BALLS.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keys, keyrings, and other things... Plus, what did Momma Kendall have to say to Negan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a dark, cruel part of me that was going to hold off on this chapter for a bit. Why? Because I like dangling stuff that make people wonder "What the hell does that mean?" Then, I realized that it was too mean. Too cruel. Too sadistic to leave people hanging about what Amara's mom could have said to Negan to make him go full on pale...Plus, @JDMsNegan asked, and well, she's good to me so here you go!
> 
> Come on, tell me y'all didn't have the same thought somewhere deep down in your twisted little hearts?~

Once we got back to Negan’s apartment, we carried in the boxes and then both of us collapsed onto the couch. Between our packing, the workout, dinner, and then carrying the boxes in, I wasn’t sure either of us would be able to move for a few hours.

Of course, I failed to recall just who I’d moved in with.

“I gave you a key to the apartment, didn’t I?” He asked, his hand linked with mine, my body curled into his side. I shook my head. “I haven’t?”

I tilted my head back and propped it on his bicep to stare up at him. “Nope.” I was tired, but I could see the twinkle in his eyes. “I think I’d remember if you gave me full access to your place, Coach.”

“You have full access to every part of me, princess.” Damn, don’t I know it. He reached into the drawer of the end table beside me and pulled out a little box. “Here, I should have given it to you when I asked you to move in, BUT-”

Taking the box, and releasing his hand, I tugged at the bow that held it shut. "Another present? Gee, I wonder what it could-” I stopped teasing as I opened the box and saw what was inside. Yes, there was a key, attached to a tiara key chain with bedazzled ‘Princess’ spelled out. But there was something else attached to the key ring. A ring. Simple and dainty, but a ring nonetheless. “Negan?” I breathed, wondering if I was ready for a ring.

“It’s not what you think, Amara.” I looked up at him, and could see he was as nervous as I was. “I mean it is, but not- Shit.” He took a deep breath and started over. “It’s NOT an engagement ring. It’s more of a pre-engagement, engagement ring.”

“A promise ring?” I offered, his struggle wasn’t funny to me. I wanted him to be the normal confident Coach I fell in love with. “A promise that-”

He fell to his knees in front of where I was sitting on the couch and took both my hands. “I told you, Amara Kendall, I want to do EVERYTHING with you. Including marry you. Eventually.” I smiled down at him. “You have plans and goals and I want you to know I’m there, every step of the way, but I also want you to know that I want THIS. In the end, you and me. Forever.”

I nodded, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Damn it. “Of course, I want that too.” I cupped his face between my hands and kissed him. “Do I have to leave the ring on the key chain?” Smiling against his lips, teasing him.

He pulled away and rolled his eyes. “No.” Taking the key ring from me, he worked fast to get my ring loose. “Hand, please.” I held out my left hand and he smiled. “You know, once this goes on, it doesn’t come off until I replace it with the real one?”

“Why can’t I just add the real one to it?” I countered, feeling him slide it along my finger. “I like the idea of this finger holding both.”

“All three, you mean,” he corrected, settling the tiny ring in place. “Because this one, the engagement ring, then finally the wedding band makes three.” I bit my lip, watching him study the ring on my finger.

“Then a trio it is.” I smiled, giggling as he rose up and took the kiss he clearly wanted. “I love you, Negan.”

“Not a drop in the ocean of what I feel for you, princess.” He answered.

Later, after he sadly remembered he owed me a spanking, we lay in bed together, sated for the moment. My new ring twinkling in the dim light of our bedroom, and I asked a question that had been burning inside of me since we left my parents’ house.

“What did Mom say to you to make you go all pale when she hugged you?” I was laying with my head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. The vibration of his chuckle was added to the beat.

“Your mom wanted to offer me some advice.” I glanced up to see his dimples fully loaded and the mirth shining in his eyes. “I went pale because I thought your dad, or fuck-you would hear her.”

“Oh, now I’m even more intrigued.” Smirking up at him, I could swear he blushed. “Coach Negan, are you BLUSHING?!”

He shook his head. “She told me,” he stopped, shook his head again and closed his eyes. “She said that your dad and her might visit us at the townhouse. And they might want to spend the night.” I waited, wondering what kind of advice Mom would offer beyond thread count on the guest room sheets. “She said that if you’re always that loud, maybe a gag would be a good investment.”

My eyes went wide. My mother. Delia Kendall. A Daughter of the Confederacy. Country Club matron. Told Negan to invest in a gag for me, so I wouldn’t scream during sex. Was I living in an alternative fucking world?

“A gag?” I asked, almost choking on my own tongue. “My mother? She advised you to buy a gag? For me?”

“Now do you see why I went pale?” I nodded my head absently. “She shocked the fuck out of me. I mean, what the hell do I do with that?”

I was still wrapping my head around my mother even contemplating a gag during sex. Much less one for me. During sex with Negan. I blinked a few times trying to decide if I was asleep already and hadn’t actually asked him, that this was a fever dream of weirdness to fill in my curiosity. But no, I could feel his skin, and mine. Fuck.

“Amara?” I heard him, but a part of me was still working through my confusion. “Princess, are you ok?”

Shaking off the weirdness, I looked up to see him staring at me in concern. “Sorry, processing the fact that MY MOTHER told you to buy a gag for ME.”

More vibrations from his laughter shook me and our bed. “Trust me, it shook my ass to my fucking core too.” He smiled at me. “Don’t worry, Amara, I have plenty of ideas about how to keep your mouth nice and quiet when they visit that don’t include gags of any sort.”

A twist of lust ran through me and then his lips met mine and I forgot all about my mom and her advice.


	16. Bollocks. Beans. Beer.  Beef.  Seriously, Who Cares About The Chapter Title?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ring. A wake up. And a plan... (I'm liking the vague summaries I've been using on a new story, so buckle up, buttercups!)

I was right, I thought, as the sunlight of a new day woke me. It caught the tiny diamonds of my promise ring and my smile grew. Waking up next to Negan was something that would never grow old and it would always be amazing. I stretched, feeling his entire body tight against the back of me, his hardness pressing into my lower back and I let out a mew of pure pleasure.

“That’s a new sound.” His growl vibrated the top of my head, since my head was cradled under his chin. “I like it.” He rocked into my back to show me just how much.

“I can feel that.” My smile grew as his hand roamed down my side, finding my knee and lifting it to drape over his own leg. “Why, Coach Negan, do you have a lesson plan prepared for this morning?”

I felt him chuckle, and then he slid a bit lower behind me and slid something else inside of me. “Fuck.” Same, Coach, same. “Damn it, princess, it always feels like the fucking first time with you.”

I rolled my hips back to meet his thrust and moaned long and low. “No fucking kidding, Negan.” We moved together, both reaching for it, the urge to make the other feel fireworks and electric currents running through us. His hand was cupping my breast, fingers stroking the hardened bud, as his mouth found the back of my neck and he flicked his tongue against the sensitive skin he found. The only sounds were our moans, the gasps of breath when one of us moved in an unexpected, yet completely wonderful way, and the sound of our skin moving together.

It was over far too soon. At least for me. I wanted Negan more than I could ever imagine wanting anything else. And feeling him bite into the soft flesh of the side of my neck, I thought he might feel the same.

“Marking me?” I teased, feeling the flutter of want building in my stomach at the thought.

His teeth were replaced by his lips, his tongue, and I felt him rolling me over so we were face to face, finally. “Can’t help wanting every single asshole in this town to know you’re mine, Amara.”

His eyes were focused on mine, until they closed when our lips met. Kissing Negan would always take my breath away. The way his mouth knew mine. The way he knew when to be soft and slow, or hard and demanding. Negan knew me inside and out, literally.

“I think they do,” I whispered when he pulled back. “They’d have to be blind to not see it.” He was hovering over me and I studied him in the bright morning light. “You’re gorgeous, you know that, right?”

“Gorgeous?” His eyebrow lifted at the thought. “Me?”

I nodded. “This scruff,” my fingertips touched the roughness. “I like it. And yes, Negan, YOU are fucking gorgeous.”

He shocked me by sliding back inside of me and grinning. “You’re right, princess.” I arched up with a moan. “I AM fucking GORGEOUS.” His mouth teased mine. “Because you, sweetheart, ARE gorgeous.”

We had breakfast after a long, lingering shower. We cuddled on the couch. Me with a book, and him with the newspaper. Thinking of the image we must be creating, I chuckled to myself.

“What’s so funny, princess?” His lips brushed my temple.

I snuggled closer. “I bet we look like an old married couple right now.” He chuckled at my words.

“Newlyweds or settled into one another?” I considered the differences.

“Does it matter?” I asked, thinking I need more information.

One of his hands dropped the corner of the paper and he let his fingertips sliver up my bare arm. “Very.” His voice had THAT tone. Still hungry. “Settled into one another would mean that cuddling on the couch is as good as it gets.” I swallowed hard as his fingertips almost tickled my skin. “Newlyweds on the other hand, would mean far more nudity and-”

He was forced to stop thanks to my destruction of his newspaper and the toss of my book, seconds before my mouth attacked his. “Newlyweds.” He muttered when I gave him a slight reprieve. “Definitely newlyweds,” and then he was pulling me onto his lap and being lazy wasn’t nearly as appealing anymore.

Hours later, again in bed, we were laughing at all the absurdities that had led us to this moment. Living together, committed to one another, and so tangled up that no one could even fathom how to part us.

“Eric and that fucking cilantro,” Negan was muttering as I giggled beside him.

I remembered that night vividly. “My mom asked if you had ‘groomed me’.” I snorted and he gave a howl of laughter. “Dear God, we’ve had the strangest courtship, haven’t we?”

“Courtship?” I could hear him pondering. “We haven’t really been on a real date, Amara.”

I looked up at him. “Yes, we have.” He waited. “The drive-in. The diner. My graduation party.”

He shook his head. “The drive-in was because we COULDN’T have a real date, ditto the diner. As for the party,” another shake of his head. “We were surrounded by people who were there to celebrate too. Doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t?” I asked, watching him. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

“That I’ve got a first date to plan, princess.”


	17. Bibbity Bobbity Boo Boobs Bumps Bitch Beer...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living with Negan, the thrills, the chills, and most certainly the...

Negan wouldn’t give me a single hint about his plans for our belated first date. He did help me put away the things I brought to his house. He also gave me ample reason to be happy we rushed into shacking up together.

He was on his knees in front of me after he’d pushed me against the counter as I was making dinner, my shorts twisted around my ankles as he enjoyed his appetizer. My fingers were tangled in his hair as my breathing went from gasps to moans before my knees buckled from a rush of pleasure so hard that I nearly blacked out. I was still gasping as he pulled away, his hands sliding up my bare legs to my waist, and then he was standing in front of me, his face inches from mine.

“You alright, princess?” He sounded smug, and after how he’d just performed he had the right to. I was breathing heavily and couldn’t answer, not just yet, so I nodded. “You look-” His fingers traced my cheeks and his smile grew. “Ready.” And then I was in his arms and he was inside of me and it started over.

We finished moments before the oven timer rang. Unfortunately, I felt like I’d lost the use of my limbs, so Negan had to serve us. We sat at the table, clothes replaced, though I was beginning to wonder why we bothered with clothes at all, eating our dinner when someone knocked on the front door.

I shot Negan a look, since my legs were still completely useless. With a shaking head and a bark of laughter, he went to see who came for a visit.

“Hello, Coach,” dear fucking god. “We thought we’d bring you a housewarming gift, since you and Amara are all cozy roomies now and all.” Eric. I was going to fucking kill him. Although I now knew why we couldn’t be clothing optional.

“Honey,” Negan called, playing along, clearly. “We have guests.”

“I heard,” I called back, not that we were that far from one another, but I wasn’t capable of turning around just yet, the man HAD fucked me into mush. I could barely feed myself. “Get your flaming ass in here, Eric.”

“Not just Eric,” Mary’s voice offered, closer. “We thought you’d be happy to see your BEST friends, princess.” Bitch, I grinned as she took one of the kitchen chairs that didn’t have a plate in front of it. “Oohh.. Dinner.”

An eye roll from me, and then I was inviting them to stay. It was just the four of us, since Eric told me that Steven had to work. We sat around the table, chatting, eating, and laughing. I realized, with a strange clarity, that this is what normal couples did. They had dinner with friends. They socialized. Shit, Negan was right, we had skipped to the end.

“I thought you had a gift for us?” I mentioned, staring at Eric. “Or was that a horrible lie, you bitch?”

He pursed his lips at me and sighed. “Here.” He pulled a long, slightly chunky package from his pocket and handed it to-Negan. Wait. “A little birdie told me you might need this.”

Negan’s eyes met mine over the table and I shrugged. I hadn’t spoken to Eric or Mary after telling them I was moving in with him. He opened the box and his confusion was replaced with glee. Eyes shining he pulled the ‘gift’ out and smiled at me. A ball gag. Shit.

“Which little birdie told you, Eric?” Negan’s eyes were on mine, suspecting me, but I was guiltless.

“Amara’s mom,” he answered before following up with a nonchalant, “can I have seconds?” I shot him a glare, but he pointed to the serving dish, and I shook my head and nodded.

After the shock wore off, we went on with our visit. Negan’s glee at my mother’s absolute weirdness was almost unbearable. Almost. I guess I could see the hilarity. It would have been more funny if it hadn’t come from her though.

When Mary and Eric were ready to leave, they hugged me like we’d never see one another again. I mentioned it, and Eric rolled his eyes.

“We’ve got weeks, right?” I nodded. “Then, bitch, we need all the snuggles we can get now.” I laughed and he whispered in my ear. “The fuck are you wearing clothes around that beast for? I expected you to be butt ass naked and our knock to go unanswered, you bored with Coach’s huge-” I smacked his shoulder and Negan’s eyes met mine.

“Eric was being an asshole,” I said with a smile.

Eric rolled his eyes, and then we said our goodbyes. The door shut behind my best friends and Negan pulled me into his arms and had me curled on the sofa with him in seconds.

“That was fun,” he sounded as shocked as I felt. I nodded. “What did Eric say to make you hit him?”

“He asked why I bothered wearing clothes around you,” Negan snorted. “And insinuated that I might have grown bored with this.” I cupped his crotch and smiled at his audible inhale. “So I smacked him.” I was sliding onto the floor in front of Negan, my other hand joining the first to tug down his shorts as he lifted his ass for me. “I mean, the nerve of him to insinuate I could EVER get bored with-” And then he was in my mouth and I reminded him why a gag was highly unnecessary to make me quiet.

OK, so maybe having unlimited access to my favorite sex toy wasn’t necessarily absolutely perfect. I mean, I always thought that girls who said they could forget to eat were absolutely full of shit, but there were days that I struggled to recall if I had eaten. And if I did, which I’m sure I must have, what the fuck it had consisted of.

Packing Negan’s office was as entertaining as I’d expected. He tossed what he wanted to keep into boxes as I carefully wrapped anything glass or delicate, not that there were many of those. And then, he bent me over his desk for old time’s sake. We almost got out of the gym before my eyes caught the padded mats that were used to soften the hard floor. He caught where my focus had shifted, and my bottom lip being worried by my teeth and with a grin gave me one more high school memory.

Ever have sex on tumbling mats in a complete empty gym? Hint: The acoustics amplify EVERYTHING. He was kind enough to sit on the mat as I then sat on him, but there was no way for him to muffle the sounds he helped force from me. I was sure that we’d get caught, but what precisely would be the consequences? He had already resigned and I had graduated and was an adult. Aside from embarrassment, not a fuck to be had. Well other than the fuck we did indeed have.

One more chore checked off from our list before moving away, I was still in the dark about that first date he was planning. I tried, sneaking leading questions in here and there, but he wouldn’t budge. Until finally, the day before our next dinner with my parents, he gave me a hint.

“Amara,” I’d been reading, naked on the bed, and glanced up at him coming from our steamy bathroom, equally naked. “Could you wear,” he pulled an outfit from our closet and laid it on the bottom of our bed. “This tonight?” I didn’t even look at what he picked.

“Are we going somewhere?” I nearly went back to the page, but his answer stopped me.

“Of course. It’s date night, princess.” Shit. I looked back at his face to see that smirk I loved.

“Tonight?” A nod. “And you want me to wear,” I finally looked down at what he’d picked. It was the exact outfit I’d worn while grading papers for him for the first time. “This?” My fingers touched it as I sat up. Another nod. “OK.”


	18. Shit, Fuck, Wanker, Twat, Cunt...See No One Cares...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First date? We don't need no stinking...Wait, that's pretty fucking romantic.

I dressed for my first date with Negan in the dress he’d chosen. Not, surprisingly the one I wore the first time we had sex in his office, but the one I’d worn before that day. When he’d shown such interest in my love life, when his jealousy peaked for the first time.

The red plaid, with its flared skirt and tight sleeves, reminded me of that day as soon as I pulled it on. I was putting on my makeup while trying to remind myself of how I had my hair that day when he walked into our bedroom and smiled.

“You won’t be too warm, will you?” His concern for my comfort made me smile.

I met his eyes in the mirror. “Kind of depends on where you plan on taking me, Coach.” He moved to stand behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders to watch me as I worked.

“Oh, I plan on TAKING you a lot of fucking places, princess.’ I felt the heat rush through me at his very clear meaning. “Our date’s gonna be mostly outside, though, I didn’t really think the outfit-”

“I’ll be fine, Negan.” I bit my lip and watched his eyes land on the movement. “I do have a question though.” He nodded for me to go on. “How the fuck did I have my hair when I wore this dress?” His smile was blinding when he reminded me of having it loosely pulled into a knot on the top of my head.

“Your neck was bare.” His finger brushed my neck. “Fucking tempting me to have a taste.” And then he did just that, making me think that maybe the date was off, but he pulled away. “I’ll let you finish getting ready, sweetheart.” Shit.

Our first stop, after Negan handed me a small clutch of flowers that I felt semi-certain he’d picked from the landscaped beds outside the apartments, was a rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. His hand was on my back leading me to our table, which he’d reserved, and then he held my chair for me, like he had every time we’d sat down to eat.

I watched him over my menu, thinking about how fucking lucky I really was to have him. After we ordered, our drinks coming first, he reached for my hand and I smiled.

“Penny for your thoughts.” He was smiling and looking so comfortable that I wanted to- I’m not sure what I wanted to do.

“I was thinking,” I smiled around the rim of my glass as I took a sip and swallowed. “That I can’t decide if I want to keep this side of you all to myself, or share it with the world so they can envy me.”

“Both.” He answered. “I’m all yours, Amara, but you can brag about it to any fucking one you want to.” He winked at me and I giggled. “Should have done this a long time ago, sweetheart.” His thumb was stroking my knuckles and I flipped my hand over so we were palm to palm. “Did I tell you that you look beautiful tonight?”

“Repeatedly.” I was smirking as I took another drink. “I think you clean up pretty damn well yourself, Negan.” He grinned and then we were approached by a guy in his twenties.

“Coach Negan?” He sounded incredulous and I nearly spit out my drink. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself, Kyle.” Negan was grinning at me still, but he’d looked up at the guy when he came to the table. “How’s college treating you?”

They spoke for a few minutes, I could feel the guy’s eyes looking at me even without peeking, since Negan’s hand kept squeezing mine. Jealousy, thy name is-

“This is my girl, Amara Kendall.” Negan was saying, bringing me out of my reverie. “Amara, sweetheart, this is Kyle Lambert.” Oh, the football star from a few years back.

“Hello, Kyle,” I said looking up and seeing his shock, although how he didn’t notice Negan’s hand linked with mine was beyond me. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same.” He looked bursting to spill his gut to someone about this new revelation. I was willing to bet money that he’d be texting his former football team before he sat back down.

Kyle said his goodbyes as our food arrived and I watched him go to see if my hunch was correct. He pulled his phone from his pocket and my grin grew. Knew it.

“See something you like?” Shit. I turned back to Negan and saw his eyes blazing. Dear God.

I shook my head grinning like a loon. “Yeah,” his eyes were slits from his glare, but I went on anyway. “Proof that I could have won a bet if I could have wagered someone out loud.” From slits to confusion. “Kyle there is currently texting everyone he’s ever known, who also knows you, to tell them the ‘scandal’ about us.” I was gleeful and Negan finally smiled. “You honestly didn’t think I could have the hots for that,” I gestured toward Kyle’s table, “when I have YOU?”

He chuckled then, and all irritation was erased. We talked throughout dinner, making plans for the remainder of the packing we had to do, and another victory came when I convinced him that hiring actual movers made sense. The waiter came back to ask if we wanted dessert and Negan said no, answering for both of us so firmly that I had hopes that meant I was dessert, but then as we left the building he surprised me again.

Ice cream, eaten while walking in the softly lit park, while our hips kept bumping because we were so close together. We’d just tossed our napkins in the trash can when he tilted my head back so I was looking up at him.

“I think you have a little something right,” and then Negan flicked his tongue against my lip and we kissed. A slow burning start to what I hoped would be the grand finale of a wonderful evening. When he pulled away, I remembered we were still in the park, so that burn would have a while to build. Unless-

“You know what?” Curiosity shone on his face, “I think I see something right,” I pulled his head back to mine and decided to add a whole hell of a lot of kindling to the fire. “Negan?” I breathed against his lips and felt him moan. “I think there might be a dark spot over here,” and then I pulled him toward a copse of trees and made sure that the evening ended in a truly satisfying way.

While outdoor sex, during the quietest part of the evening in a public park, sounds all hot and thrilling, there are downsides. As Negan and I took turns treating our MANY mosquito bites learned.

“That tickles,” I was twitching as he was applying the itch reducing astringent with a cotton ball to a very delicate part of my anatomy.

He laughed, and kept administering to each cluster of bites. “You’ll remember this the next time you decide screwing against a tree-”

“Or in the grass,” I helped.

“Or in the grass,” he added, and I swore I could hear his eyes rolling. “I fucking hope.”

“You’re only irritated because one sucked the blood from your balls.” I grinned over my shoulder at him.

He chuckled with a hint of a growl. “I have a preference for who can suck my balls, princess, and it’s not a fucking mosquito.”

“Damn right,” I winked at him. “Are you done yet?” It was a whine, but I was bored.

“Almost,” he smacked my cheek when I fidgeted. “I’d be finished already if someone would hold the fuck still.” I groaned and pressed my face into the bed. “Good girl.” Shit.

“Why does that fucking phrase-” I was muttering into the bed, so I felt certain he couldn’t really hear me, but damn it if he didn’t.

“Make you so fucking wet?” His fingers replaced the cotton ball and was sliding between my legs to prove his point. “Because, princess, you want to be my good girl.” I twitched against him, and his fingers. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” I gasped, turning my head so I didn’t accidentally smother myself and miss the good stuff.

“See, not so hard, is it?” I wiggled against his lap and felt him sigh.

“I don’t know, Coach, feels pretty fucking hard to me.” And with a growl, I was flipped onto my back and we went back to finishing up our first date.


	19. Anyone Else Feeling Jealous of That Fucking Mosquito?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but fuck if I couldn't keep this one in for too long...

Negan looked uncomfortable seated behind the steering wheel as he drove us to my parents’ house for our weekly dinner. I was trying very very hard not to fucking cackle. The reason for my darling coach’s discomfort was simple, and funny. The mosquito had done a truly magnificent number on his right testicle. If I wasn’t intimately familiar with Negan’s balls, right and left, then I might not have noticed the swelling. I was, so I did. And so, as the love of my life drove to my parents’, I tried desperately NOT to start laughing at his misery. 

Considering the fact that he’d already spanked me to a burning climax, and I do mean BURNING, I was biting my tongue, lip, and anything that would keep my obvious mirth tucked away. Besides, I had other things to consider for our dinner.

First of all, I was wearing my ring. My promise ring, prominent and proud, but also something my mother had NO idea about. I was excited, to show it off, to have her either glare or grin. I wanted her to see, even after hearing my deep appreciation for what Coach could do to my body, that he truly loved me and was making plans. Long term future plans.

And the final one had to do with her knowledge of that deep down appreciation and her recommendations for when she and Daddy visited us down the road. I planned on making Delia Kendall squirm, not unlike Negan was trying desperately not to. 

Pre-dinner conversation in the den was spent with my mother grilling Negan on the plans that my new jewelry would allude to. I nearly rolled my eyes, but the questions seemed to keep his mind off his swollen and irritated ball, so I let her go on with it. Daddy smiled vaguely at me when my mother had practically yanked my arm off to have a closer look at the delicate ring, but I was hoping that what I had planned for dinner would bring him more fully into the conversation. 

We sat down at the table, still seated across from one another, too far to play, but much easier to eye fuck one another. I almost felt sorry for not giving him a head’s up for what was coming. Almost, I thought, as I felt a twinge of soreness when my ass touched down on the beautiful, yet not as comfortable as the fucking should be dining room chair. 

The main course was served, and I was careful to wait until the maid tucked herself back in the kitchen before I brought up the topic I was most interested in. Cutting off another round of “how long do you expect this pre-engagement to last” questioning by smiling widely at Negan and asking my mother if she had any other suggestions for our new house. She didn’t catch the implications, but he did, and his dimples came out thinking I was going to dance around the topic. Poor soul, it’s like he didn’t fucking know me at all.

Mom was working through fabric ideas, and sofa groupings when I did something that not only woke up my dad, but made Negan nearly choke on his bite of steak. I tossed the ball gag down in the middle of the table and silence fell. 

“I was more curious if you had any other sex toys you wanted to recommend?” And then, as though I hadn’t just one upped Eric for hitting the wrong note during dinner, my father piped up from his end and had us all gasping.

“Delia? Is that ours?” 

Negan was laughing into my bare shoulder as we lay tangled in our bed that night. “For fuck’s sake, Amara,” he was having issues catching is breath as he relived our dinner. “When your dad-”

I groaned and rolled over to bury my head in my pillow. “Kill me now!” I screamed, letting the pillow smother most of the noise. Rolling back over and letting him brush my hair out of my face, I glared up at his smirking face. “You really fucking enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

Nodding and barking out another laugh, he leaned forward and nipped at my shoulder. “Oh I fucking did, princess, so fucking much.” Another nip and I could feel the blush I’d been wearing since I thought I had the upper hand leave my face to recenter somewhere far more pleasant. “I mean, shit, Amara you’re parents are freaks!” 

“Takes one to know one,” I offered, right before he decided to remind me that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.


	20. Anal Beads?!  Kidding, but I Did Have Y'all For a Second, Didn't I?

Preparations for our move kicked into high gear. I wanted to think that Negan really didn’t want to have to attend many more family dinners after my performance backfired so spectacularly during our last visit. If that was the case, you wouldn’t hear me arguing. Those dinners were maddening before I knew my parents were sexual deviants. Now? Well, now they would be worse. They’d have to be.

Eric, Mary, and Steven all volunteered to help us pack. And when my two best friends saw my ring, I thought my ears would start bleeding from the squealing they did. Negan and Steven built the boxes, Eric sat on his ass and offered minimal help, but maximum suggestions, and Mary and I wrapped and packed. Then Negan and Steven stacked the filled boxes carefully out of the way.

I called Mom, telling her when the movers would be arriving so she’d expect us. She didn’t seem surprised that we’d moved the date up, and I could have sworn she sounded relieved. Damn, one ball gag tossed on the table and suddenly no one wanted family dinners anymore.

Eric and Mary were driving up behind us, and the truck, to help us sort the boxes and to spend one last hurrah before school. Mary was heading to the west coast, Eric was going closer to home. Steven had to work, but he hoped, and I shared it, that we could try for one more group gathering before everyone truly parted. Since we couldn’t be certain, my besties offered their services.

I got to say goodbye to my parents when we went over to supervise the movers. Mom and Dad, and the image of that damn ball gag hanging over us, still reminded me of how much they loved me. They had the keys to our new home, which they handed over with more willingness than I was prepared for. Maybe Mom, and to a lesser extent, Dad had finally come to real terms with Negan and me. I have a feeling the ring helped.

Negan was lording over the movers as they took apart my bed. Making sure not a scratch or God forbid a limb was broken on it. Then the rest of the bedroom furniture and my vanity were carefully tucked into the truck that already held Coach’s apartment furniture. My mother’s eyes met the more utilitarian choices Negan had made and I felt it coming, but it still made me laugh.

“Tell me you plan on upgrading that when you settle in,” she kept her voice down, which made me smile since she clearly didn’t want to hurt Negan’s feelings. “Please, Amara, remember how you were raised.” Yep, in a museum quality house, that’s how I was raised.

“He wants to shop for things once we see the townhouse.” I murmured, watching as Negan helped the movers with my boxes. “He’s excited about this.”

“You are too,” she said, watching as my dad spoke with the driver and slid him a few extra bills. “We want you to be happy, honey.”

“I am,” I promised, hugging her again as they finished up.

When we pulled up in front of the address that Mom gave us, both of us piling out of our cars as we waited for the moving truck, Negan shot me a look. I was just as surprised.

“Townhouse, princess?” I knew my mouth was hanging open, so I also knew he could tell I was shocked.

I hadn’t actually toured the house my parents bought for me. I’d assumed that they knew what a townhouse was, and when that’s what she called it, I went along with the description. This. This was NOT a townhouse. It was a two story brick colonial. White trim stood out against the dark red bricks. A large front porch, and a privacy fenced backyard that we could see from our angle in front. A two car attached garage, matching the house perfectly, and a manicured lawn that I knew we’d have to provide the upkeep for, since the houses surrounding us matched perfectly. Shit.

“I think she meant that it’s a house in town.” I was shocked. Pure and simple. This was a house. A real fucking house.

“You never saw it before?” His arm wrapped around me and he kissed the top of my head when I shook it. “Surprise.” We both chuckled.

The truck came soon after, followed closely by Eric and Mary. They looked as amazed as Coach and I had. But then the move got into full swing, Eric standing by the front door to direct traffic. Mary and I double checked boxes, while Negan followed the movers and helped one assemble our bed in the largest bedroom.

We worked until the movers left, then we ordered pizza and drinks, sat around the living room and laughed at the overkill of my mother’s housing choices.

“It’s fucking huge,” Eric said, his voice echoing slightly because of the hardwoods and the fact that even with our combined furniture there was too much space. Only our bedroom seemed full. “Mama Kendall really spoils you, bitch.”

I rolled my eyes, taking another slice of pizza. “Mama Kendall is insane.” I offered, biting into the warm dough. “What the fuck are we supposed to do with all this fucking room?”

“Fill it with babies?” Mary asked, looking around. The house was beautiful, but seriously too much for a single college student that I was coming as before Negan and I got together. I glared at her and she grinned. “What do you think, Coach? Time to make, Amara, barefoot and pregnant?”

He shook his head and held me tighter on his lap where I’d sat down. “I think we’re going fast enough, don’t you, princess?” I smirked at my best friend and leaned back against his chest as he took a long drink from his beer. “We could practice though.”

My smile grew as Eric rolled his eyes. “Practice DOES make perfect, baby.” My hand covered his as I finished my slice.

“Then shouldn’t you both be fucking professors in fucking by now? How much more practice do you need?” Eric groaned. We heard a knock on the front door and I got up to answer it. Negan gave my backside a playful swat and I giggled as I ran to see who came for a visit.

Neighbors. A husband and wife named Alice and Harry. Negan stood as they came into the living room, Eric and Mary waving from their seats around the pizza box. Harry shook Negan’s hand and Alice took a discerning look around our moving mess.

“We saw you and your daughter arrive-” Harry was saying and I heard Eric choke on his drink. Fuck. “Thought we’d be neighborly and welcome you.”

Negan looked like he’d like to rip Harry’s arm off and hit him with it. “Thank you, but Amara isn’t my daughter.” His eyes were glittering and I saw the man swallow hard. “She and I are-”

“Shacked up,” Mary snorted, and I shot her a look. “Sorry.” She took a swig of her drink and I shook my head.

“We’ve been together for a year,” almost, I added in my head. “Negan’s going to be the new physical education teacher at the local high school, and I’m-”

“Starting her first year of college,” Negan supplied, releasing Harry from his grip and coming over to wrap his arm around my waist. “Amara is going to teach English Literature when she’s finished.” He looked like he was bursting with pride. “These are our friends, Eric and Mary.” They waved again, but I could tell that Alice and Harry knew their welcome was pretty well over. They begged off the offer of a drink or a slice of pizza and then they were gone.

“Fucking-” I started, but Eric, ever the wordsmith helped me diffuse what could have been a tense situation.

Rolling his eyes with a dramatic sigh, he looked up at us and grinned. “Don’t know what the fucking issue was, I’d call Coach ‘daddy’ any day of the fucking week.”


	21. Dolls, Dollars, Dicks, and Danger (some are in this chapter...)

Eric and Mary spent the first night in our new home with us. Mary and I worked to get things unpacked, while Eric and Negan worked to move furniture around and hang some of the pictures I’d brought from my room. There was a bit of a disagreement when it came to the framed shot of Negan’s happy trail.

“Bitch, do you KNOW how much money I paid for this fucking frame?” Eric’s eyes were wide as I mentioned putting it on my beside table. “This is fucking art, frame and Coach Hot Dick’s lickable self,” I rolled my eyes as he yanked the frame from my hands and put in the middle of the mantle. “THIS is where it goes.”

Mary was snickering. “Want some candles and flowers? Like a fucking shrine you weirdo?” She shot a look at Negan, who had his back to us watching out of the living room window. “Although to be fair, he might deserve a fucking shrine.”

Jesus. I watched his back and could tell he was building up for his own hot take. “Sure, you two want to give him a shrine, but I have to LIVE with his ego already, so could you knock the stroking down a few notches?” I said it in his direction, wanting to see if that would break him.

“Hmm.” Eric’s eyes went closed as he moaned a little. “Stroking Coach? Hell, I’ll kick that shit up to a fucking 12.”

That did it. Negan coughed out a laugh and turned around. “Sorry, kid, there’s only ONE person in this room that gets to touch my 12 and it ain’t you.” He had his arms around me before I blinked. “But-” He kissed me long and hard, “I think he’s right, babe, I mean fuck, look at that-” he jerked his head toward the mantle. “Who doesn’t want to see that in all its fucking glory?”

We went out to dinner that night. The four of us, eating and laughing at one of the casual chain franchises, planning future visits and letting ourselves have a break before we went back to work unpacking.

The four of us worked hard, and while Negan and I would still have plenty to do when they left the next morning, we made a good dent in the work. Eric and Mary, both sighing heavily and dramatically, agreed to share the bed that we’d slept in while living together in Negan’s apartment. Our guests tucked in for the night, I met Negan in our room.

He had helped the movers rebuild my bed, and Mary and I had redressed it while they had been downstairs doing whatever he and Eric did when we weren’t in the room. Negan had taken his shower first and I was ready to pout. I felt like I should have had a treat after the day we had, but apparently a hot shower with my very hot man wasn’t on the list.

I went toward my dresser to grab clothes, but his arms wrapped around me stopping me. The feel of his body pressing tight against me made me think that I was going to get my prize after all.

“I laid out something for you in the bathroom, princess.” I felt my stomach clench as he whispered the words against my ear, the heat of his breath wreaking havoc on my heartbeat. “Go shower, and come back to me.”

And then he stepped back and I had to fight back a whimper at the loss of his heat. I took a beat to calm myself and then tried desperately to walk at a natural speed to our bathroom. Not taking a moment to see what he’d picked, I took a shorter shower than normal, feeling the tension build instead of lessening under the beating spray of the hot water. I stepped out of the glass enclosure and took up the plush towel he’d set out for me and then my eye met what he’d chosen for me to come to bed wearing and my mouth went dry.

As I dried carefully, taking careful inventory of my own body and making sure I didn’t need to hope back in the shower for a little extra personal grooming, I looked at the lingerie he’d picked. Powder blue, not quite as icy looking as the formal dress I’d worn during my disastrous date with Joe, it left little to the imagination. A baby doll nightie, the tag had read, and I’d bought it on a whim. Lace, mesh, with a matching scrap of fabric that someone could squint and pretend they constituted panties, it was a set I’d almost forgotten I owned.

I had to put everything on carefully, the mesh delicate, the thread that created the waistline of the panties made for ripping. Swallowing the rush of lust I felt at the very thought of it, I brushed my hair, thinking I’d put it up once we were ready to sleep, but for now long, loose, and wet would do. Biting my lip at my reflection, knowing without a doubt that Negan had chosen one the hottest sets he’d come across so far, but nowhere near the sexiest, I hoped this would be a new routine.

When I opened the door separating our bath from our room, I noticed that he’d dimmed the lights, and he was standing by the bed. I hoped he hadn’t stood there too fucking long, because I didn’t want him tired out already. And my panties would attest to that.

“Shit,” he whispered, eyes burning up my entire length. “A part of me wishes you could wear that out in public, but the other part-” he stalked toward me. “Would fucking kill anyone who sees you like this.” And then his lips met mine and he showed me just how fucking amazing he thought I looked.

I was on my back in the middle of our bed in no time. Negan took a moment to rock his short covered hardness into my already ruined panties, but then he pulled back to get rid of what little he was wearing. And then he was back, hovering over me, his lips meeting mine again. My arms moved to wrap around his neck, but his hands caught my wrists and put them back on the pillow on either side of my head.

“Keep your hands there,” Negan’s hungry voice had come out to play. “Understand, sweetheart?”

I nodded, but then corrected myself. “Yes, sir.” He smirked down at me and then leaned forward to nip at my ear.

“I think I want a new title, Amara,” his breath was hot on the dampness he’d created. “I bet you even know what it is.”

Shit. No, did he- “Are you serious?” It came out a little sharper than I meant, but he pulled up so our eyes could meet again. “You were pissed when they insinuated that.”

His smirk was full blown now. “I was pissed they thought you were my daughter, princess, not that they thought I was your ‘daddy’.”

I felt a new clench at how he growled the word. Fuck. “You want me to call you ‘daddy’?” Sharpness was gone from my voice, replaced by the breathless tone he usually evoked from me. I bit my lip as I felt his hard naked length teasing my soaked panties. “Earn it.”

And holy shit, did he.


	22. Daddy, Ball Gags, Keys

I woke up wrapped around Negan tighter than we’d ever been wrapped together. My throat was dry as a desert and I was fairly certain that my entire body had been through a better workout than ever before. Even my toes felt sore, which raised a LOT of fucking questions. 

“Morning, princess,” He growled and even with my entire body achy as fuck, I still felt a twist of lust. The hell kind of aphrodisiac was this man? “Last night was-”

I stretched, happy that I could fucking move. “Fucking memorable?” The vibration of his chuckle felt fucking amazing on my very tender skin. “I’m so damn thirsty I could drink an entire lake.” Another laugh, and I felt his fingers sliding over my skin. 

“You were pretty fucking loud, sweetheart.” No shit, I thought, thinking if I ever dared the man to prove shit to me or earn anything I needed to have my head examined. “Although, fuck if I don’t want to hear it every damn night from here on out.” Another fucking lurch of need hit me, but then my stomach growled so damn loud it was embarrassing. “First, food. Then we pack Mary and Eric on their way home. Then-” he left it hanging, but his whole hand cupped one of my ass cheeks and I knew precisely what we’d be filling today with. 

Tossing on shorts and a t-shirt, I watched as Negan threw on the shorts he’d thrown off the previous night. I had to bite my lip at his bare chest and back. Fuck, would I ever get used to him being ALL mine?

“I can feel you staring,” his voice was still gravely and my stomach clenched. Looking over his shoulder at me and knew he felt it too. “Let’s open the fucking door before I change our plans and we text the two of them goodbye.” Shit.

Negan opened the door and started laughing hysterically when he glanced down. I was about to ask what the fuck was so funny, but he raised his hand and another fucking ball gag was dangling from his finger. “Think Eric bought them in bulk, or-”

“I swear to fuck, if that’s the one my dad wondered about, I will fucking murder him.” Negan’s hand took mine and we went downstairs to see if my best friends were awake for the day.

Mary and Eric were sitting at the small table in the kitchen, but neither greeted us as we walked in. I offered up my own ‘Morning’, but nothing. They had their backs to us, and I glared at their heads. Those assholes.

Stalking to the two of them, I reached out both hands and slapped them in the back of their heads. Seeing them jump made me feel marginally better, but then I saw the bitches take out soft earplugs and hit them both again. 

“Bitch, what is your problem?” Eric shouted, turning in his chair. 

Negan, clearly stealing my dramatic whims, tossed the ball gag he’d found on our door knob onto the table and watched as my two best friends grinned. Rolling my eyes as Negan’s arms wrapped around me, I waited for Eric’s hot take.

“Look, after all the different ways we heard ‘daddy’ come out of you last night, I thought we’d give you a replacement gag, in case you two decided for round-” Eric stopped and looked like he was trying to count through the rounds we may have had over the course of hours. “Fuck I don’t even have that many fingers and toes, bitch.”

Coach was smothering his amusement in my neck, but I could FEEL his grin almost splitting his fucking face. Deciding it was high time for Eric to learn his place, I sighed. 

“If I’m gonna call ANYONE ‘daddy’, he’s gotta earn it, you whore.” And that did it, Mary’s grin was so wide I thought her face would explode and Negan had to move his face because he was going to smother from the laughter he was holding tight against my skin. Eric’s eyes were wider than they’d ever been. 

“Then you better buy these,” he tossed the soft earplugs at me, “in fucking bulk and give your goddamn neighbors a stockpile each, because holy fuck, did he earn it!” 

After laughing our asses off, we finally managed to sit down for breakfast. When we’d gone out for dinner the evening before, me and my two best friends had gone grocery shopping while Negan had run his own errand. And as we ate, Coach handed two small boxes to my best friends. 

“I thought,” he said as they pulled the top of the boxes off, “that since you’re Amara’s family, you should have a key to our house.” Inside, on key chains that he’d shown me during a respite overnight, were copies of our house key. “Steven has one too,” he pulled out another box. “You’re important to my girl, so that makes you important to me too.” 

I swear, every time I thought Negan couldn’t fucking surprise me any more, he did. Mary’s key chain was a bejeweled theater mask. Eric’s was a tiara, because of course, and Steven’s a crown. It was one of the sweetest gestures, and he made it all by himself. 

Eric and Mary left about an hour after they got their keys and as soon as the door shut and locked behind them, I felt Negan’s mouth hot on my neck. “Think we can scandalize the neighbors during the daytime?” He growled into my skin.


	23. Plops, Ploops, Pleas...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I need to warn everyone. While Amara and Coach's story has gone pretty carefully through their time together, the next chapters, to the ending, are going to be pushing forward. This one, for instance, has the first real time leap. I'd always planned on this starting before all hell broke loose, to after the dead rose...And that's still the plan, but reading day to day life moments of the two of them would get a bit boring. And so, this is your warning.

After our friends left, as Negan made my stomach twist with pure lust at the idea of our neighbors being ruined by our debauchery, it began to rain. Since Coach had decided that our walls were too thick to REALLY make the neighbors get the full experience of our lovemaking in stereo if you will, the rain beating down on our nakedness as he pressed me up against the privacy fence circling our backyard had a two-fold benefit. One, the rain kept the fucking mosquitoes at bay, and two, it kept our bodies from overheating. Although, I could have fucking swore that I heard it sizzle when it hit our skin.

I don’t think it was loud enough to keep our next door neighbors from hearing the moans and screams that Negan and I forced from one another though. Not that either of us gave a fuck, other than the one we were giving each other, of course.

He managed, holding onto my wet skin as he was pounding into me, to hit that magical spot inside of me and then I finally gave him what he’d so clearly been after. My mouth was calling out to him, using that new title he’d earned so well the night before, begging him for more. My fingernails were biting into his shoulders, my teeth tugging on his ear, pleading with him, begging.

“Come on, Amara,” he growled, his own mouth hot on my neck. “Come on, sweetheart, one more. One more for Daddy.” And that did it. Clamping down on him, my heels digging into his back, I screamed as I felt him follow me over that final ledge.

We took a long hot shower, and then Coach and I settled into our new life together. We lived and loved. We argued, because Negan could be the most irritating asshole and I could be completely unreasonable as well.

He gave me my second ring, added to the pre-engagement one that he’d given me the first time we moved in together, the day I took my final exam of my third year in college. I’d come home, a house we’d made a home by redecorating it to suit our combined tastes, to find him cooking an elaborate dinner in our kitchen. Kissing me breathless, he ordered me to take a long hot bath, dress in what he’d laid on our bed, and come back down so we could celebrate.

I’d known, since that first dainty ring was placed on my finger, that the second, and eventually the final, ring would be coming. I just didn’t know when. And so, I took his ‘advice’ and went upstairs to prepare for my third year’s in the bag celebration, completely in the dark about just how special my night would be.

A hot bath. Followed by a leisurely drying, and then dressed in the same outfit I’d worn the very first time I felt Negan inside of me. The first time he’d asked me what job I was dressing for, and the first time I took full pleasure in his touch. Right down to the boots, and the loose braid, aside from the fact that I’d celebrated my 21st birthday, no one would have been able to see a visible difference in how I looked that day versus my senior year.

He’d also set out the jewelry he’d bought me for the disastrous spring formal, that had ended far better than it had begun, so once I added the necklaces, and replaced my earrings with the ones that matched, I had to smile at my reflection. Negan was constantly surprising me.

Coach had recreated the pasta dinner that I had been too full to appreciate the first time he’d made it for me. And he had set our kitchen table, the smaller and more intimate one, and the same table he had had at his apartment that night with candles and I had to smile when I took it all in.

“Fuck, princess, you look-” he bit his lip as he took in the vision he’d helped to recreate. And I stared into the soft warm caramel of his eyes, knowing that they’d grow darker as he grew more excited. “Come here.”

I moved slowly to the table, wanting to make our night last as long as possible. My smile grew as he held my chair for me, and then I was biting my own lip as I felt him lean into my neck and the warmth of his breath, the slide of lips along my skin causing me to get light headed. He gave a quiet hum as he gently slid my chair closer to the table.

“Soon,” it was a whisper, and I couldn’t tell if it was a promise to me, or to himself.

We ate, and talked, as we had every single night that he wasn’t coaching a game at the high school or, as he had insisted during our second year in our new life, during summer evenings when he worked as a car salesperson. We laughed, and I couldn’t count the number of times his fingers brushed mine, or how often my foot touched his under the table. “You ate more tonight than you did the first time,” he offered, taking a drink of the scotch I’d found he liked and kept stocked for him. His eyes were twinkling at the memory. “And you weren’t late because of one of Eric’s fashion emergencies.”

I bit my lip at the memory, taking a sip of my red wine. “Damn, Coach, does that mean I don’t have to be punished?” His grin made my smile come out.

“Oh, I think tonight is more about celebrating and presents.” I raised an eyebrow. “Dessert first?”

I shook my head. “Pretty sure that what I want for dessert won’t need the silverware, Negan.” I licked a drop of my wine from my lower lip and was gratified to see that his eyes had gone darker.

When he stood up from the table, I was absolutely convinced I was right, but then he dropped to his knees beside my chair and my breath truly left me. “I think it’s time I added something to your left hand, sweetheart.” He pulled a small box from his pocket and my eyes burned. Shit. Opening the box, I had to force my eyes away from his to take stock of the beauty of it. It was as simple and perfect as my first ring, and he knew he didn’t have to ask me as he slid it on my finger to join the first. “We can take all the time you want to plan the day, Amara, but I can’t wait to put the last one on here too.” Negan kissed where the three rings were settled. “I love you, princess.”

And then, after he brushed away my very happy tears, our lips met and then I got the dessert I wanted most of all.

OK, so some of my readers like to visualize the clothing/jewelry/designs without pictures that I used to create the vision for myself, BUT I felt like maybe Amara's rings might be enjoyed. 

Amara's Pre-Engagement Ring

Amara's Engagement (and her wedding band)


	24. Pretty Sure This Chapter is Gonna Get Me Stabbed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:
> 
> If I could make that warning glow bright red, I would do it in a heartbeat. Here's the deal. When I started writing this past the one-shot it was supposed to be, I KNEW that it would come to this. Sometimes I play around with the plot line and freak myself out when it goes completely off the rails, but this one? Yeah, I knew this was gonna happen if I kept it going. 
> 
> That being said, please know that there's still gonna be humor (even if this is a FUCKING DARK chapter) AND there's gonna be more of that mix from here on out. 
> 
> And now, without further ado, the line for slapping begins after @JDMsNegan...trust me, she'll happily start the beating.

I’d like to tell everyone that after Negan gave me my engagement ring our lives continued on the normal, sex-crazed, love fueled route we’d been on since the first time we touched. I can’t do that and stay honest though. 

We had a good six months after he slipped my second ring on. Six months of my mom’s ideas for our wedding. Six months of making it difficult for our neighbors to make eye contact after a LONG weekend at home. Six months of Eric and Steven (both had transferred to the college I was finishing at) hanging out, but not wearing out their welcome. Six months of LONG phone conversations with Mary about her life on the west coast and how she couldn’t wait to celebrate our graduations over the coming summer. We had six months, and I guess, looking back I should feel pretty fucking lucky that we had that.

I’d always thought we were absurdly lucky. Hadn’t I wondered a thousand times when it would wear off, this magical pull we had for one another. The way our eyes could meet during dinner with anyone, and both of us would find an excuse to leave the room together, or the meal entirely and then be naked and pounding together in no time flat, wasn’t sustainable. Was it?

The first blow to our reality came right before Christmas. Having a pair of police officers show up at your front door never signifies good news. Having it happen with twinkle lights glowing behind them doesn’t make it easier to take the grim news they were delivering.

Mom had mentioned, offhandedly, that there had been a few break ins in the neighborhood during one of our phone calls. She’d made it seem a nuisance rather than a fear. She should have been afraid. Her and Dad had been killed when they walked in on a burglar. It had been quick, the policemen assured me, as though that made it better somehow. 

Negan wasn’t home when I found out. He’d insisted, once we were officially engaged, that he work his second job during the school year as well as during summer. Mom had told me he was too proud to live off of my trust fund, and with our future coming on fast he wanted to prove that we didn’t need to use it. So he was working at the car lot, as the two uniformed officers stood on my front porch and told me that my parents were dead. Gone forever.

The officers asked if there was someone they could call, I must have looked like I was going into shock, because I no doubt was. I handed them my cell phone, told them to call Negan AND Eric. Mary was coming home in a few days, but telling her now would just rush her home and I had no fucking clue what would come next.

What came next was Eric and Steven rushing to me from their apartment nearby. Negan screeching into our driveway moments later. And then they all tried to keep me from falling into a million pieces.

The funeral overshadowed the holidays. While I was tempted to completely ignore Christmas and New Years’ I knew that I couldn’t. Mom, and Dad too, wouldn’t have wanted us to stop moving forward. That was the point of life, the living get to live it. 

It was a somber couple of months, and later, after everything went to shit fast and furious, I had to wonder if that was the catalyst or if I’d lost him long before then.

Since Negan was working a second job, I took the offer to be a TA when it was given. I won’t lie and say the sexual pull wasn’t there between us any more, it was still there. We could still make the neighbors blush, but we weren’t as available to one another. He had school, the teams he helped coach, and then his sales position at the dealership. I had school, my TA position, and Eric to keep me company. I should have seen it. Hindsight, I suppose.

For the next few months, working my ass off to keep up my grades and earn my degree, my focus shifted from being upset that Negan and I didn’t have the time to rip one another’s clothes off as often as we once had. I had taken my last final the night before my world truly started spinning out of control. I felt Negan rolling out of bed, the sun shining through our curtains, and then the water turned on in our shower. 

Once upon a time, I would have joined him. And I was actually thinking about it, but then his phone dinged on the nightstand. I thought it might be work, they’d texted him before from the dealership when one of his customers needed to contact him, so I rolled over and smiled as the warmth of his side and the scent of him invaded my senses. It was short lived. And my plan to join him in the shower left with that contentment. 

Opening up his messenger, I saw a photo that turned my stomach and made me want to scream, cry, hit something, and then die, in that order. It was Negan, MY Negan, lying on a bed with a naked redhead cuddled against him. He was naked too, or I assumed he was since his chest was bare and his hands were curled around her waist, pressing their faces together. Her lipstick, a vivid shade of red, was smeared and his mouth was stained with it. There was only one word that accompanied it. “SOON”.

I don’t know how I managed to not do any of the things my body longed to. I don’t know how I fucking held back when he kissed me goodbye. I don’t know why I didn’t confront him. Why I didn’t fucking scream, and hold him accountable is still a mystery to me.

Maybe it was because of the whispers. Hadn’t I wondered if I’d been his first student lover? Hadn’t I heard the age old adage that “once a cheat, always a cheat”? And hadn’t I constantly wondered just how long we had before our bubble burst? 

Five years, give or take. That’s how long. Five years of Negan and Amara in that wonderful love and lust filled bubble. And now our time has run out. 

Negan called me from work later that day. He said he’d been called by Lucille’s doctor. She was dying, he told me, and she had asked for him. I can admit I doubted him. Wouldn’t any sane woman who saw the picture I’d seen have doubts? 

He asked me to pack him a bag that he’d run by to grab. I hadn’t called anyone to tell them what I’d seen. I was all alone in our house, a house we’d refurnished and redecorated together. A house I thought we’d made a home. I had a flash of vengefulness that made me want to cut holes into anything I packed for him, but I fought it. If Negan was leaving, be it for a trip or forever, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d torn out my fucking heart and stomped on it. I packed carefully for him. T-shirts, jeans, underwear like I would have packed for any other trip he could have asked me to do. 

He seemed to know that there was something off with me. Negan hugged me to him, pressing my face into his chest and telling me that he’d be back before I could miss him. He kissed me in the same hungry and breathless way that seemed to be OUR way, but I had to wonder if he kissed HER like that too. If he made her sound like Marilyn, or if she called him “sir” or “daddy”?  
I felt the hysteria creeping in again, and felt almost relieved when he finally let me go and left. 

Watching him pull away from our house, to head back to where we’d met, I finally let go. I screamed so loud I was surprised the neighbors didn’t call the police. They did, however, call Eric.

“That dumb, rancid asshole-” Eric was whispering into my hair as he held me and I sobbed. “How fucking dare he-”

Steven was behind me patting my back and whispering comfort while Eric was raging harder than me. You’d almost think Negan cheated on him. “Not helping,” his boyfriend snapped at my best friend. “Mara, honey, maybe it’s not what you think-”

I snorted, and pulled back from Eric to shoot Steven a look of pure indignation. “They were naked, Steven. Naked and wrapped around one another, and FUCK I’m gonna be-”

I jumped up and rushed to the closest bathroom. I made it, but only just, and then I emptied my stomach of everything I’d ever considered eating. Retching and gagging, even empty I still felt like I had more to give. Eric was waiting for me, once I’d flushed and then brushed my teeth and gargled. 

“Better?” His concern was palpable, but it didn’t help. Nothing would help. 

What’s worse than finding out the love of your life is a cheating dickhead? The dead reanimating. Trust me, seeing a corpse walking down the street and then biting people, that shit can out weigh even the worse fucking heartbreak. 

Luckily Mary had made it to our side just in time for us all to evacuate together. Mary, Steven, Eric, and me off on a grand adventure. I almost didn’t have a spare moment to think about Negan’s infidelity. Almost. And I’d like to say that when I packed for our mad dash to safety that I left all reminders of him behind. I didn’t. Eric’s framed gift along with a photo album that held pictures of my entire family came with me. My rings, my jewelry (yes, even the spring formal set that he’d surprised me with), and while I didn’t pack the feminine dresses that everyone knew me for, I did pack the knee high boots. 

My phone never rang, not before the towers became inoperable. No texts came. Nothing to make me think that I was wrong about Negan having left me. And I had to believe that he left me and was with HER safe and sound, because even with him destroying me, I couldn’t survive in a world where he was dead. That would be a cruelty too far.

“I think I see something up ahead,” Steven said, he was driving the SUV that we’d chosen to take, having seen the horrible traffic we assumed having four wheel drive might be handy if we needed to go off road. 

I looked up from where I’d been daydreaming out the window and I knew immediately that he was right. “Alexandria?”


	25. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah...Hit Me, I Dare You

Alexandria. I was surprised at how easily we’d found sanctuary. We hadn’t been that far from our starting point, and there it was. The leader, a politician named Deanna Monroe, when we introduce ourselves I see her eyes flash at my name. Great, I thought, one of Mom’s friends.

“I was sorry to hear about Delia and Robert,” she offered, once my trio of travelling companions were scouting houses to see which one would be best for us. “They were good people.”

I nodded, my fingers twisting the diamond necklace that Negan had given me during my graduation dinner, the matching bracelet flashing in the sunlight, and with my hair pulled back the earrings were visible too. I wore the set because each piece had been given to me by someone who wasn’t with me right now. 

“The world wasn’t great before,” I muttered, looking around at the shiny new community that seemed too perfect to be trusted. “But this? This is a fucking nightmare.”

Deanna was far more optimistic than I was. She was a politician after all, so she knew how to spin the scenario to best suit our needs. Since I would have gotten my teaching degree had the world not turned to a living horror film, she decided that would be my role in our new group. I’d teach. Mary, Eric, and Steven were given the same types of jobs that they would have had if we’d kept going down our planned path. Mary, who had teased about winning acting awards, took charge of supplies and inventory management. Eric had planned to go to medical school, but after four years and time spent as a medic, became the medical team for supply runs outside of the walls of our community. And Steven worked with Deanna’s husband, since he’d planned on working in architecture. 

We settled into our new life, but after only a few months, I knew there was something Mary hadn’t told us. And I confronted her, forcing her to confess to something that I had suspected, but she had feared.

“Yes, alright, I’m pregnant.” She had her forehead pressed to the toilet of our shared bathroom. After a week of hearing her rush to the bathroom at first light and toss her cookies so fucking loud that I nearly joined her, she finally admitted it. 

“Mary, who-” She shot me a look and I swallowed the question. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to be the little peanut’s ‘daddy’.” I sat down beside her on the bathroom floor and brushed her hair out of her face. “I mean, not like I’m gonna have any kids of my own, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Amara, you could meet someone-”

It was my turn to flash her the look. That was dangerous territory and they all knew it. “Or,” I stood up and offered her a hand up. “I could just be a spinster and leave the romance to Eric and Steven.”

“That’s right, bitch!” I heard Eric call from down the hallway. “We do it better than you straight assholes anyway!”

A year and a half, give or take, and our foursome was five, at least for a while. Trey was our little monkey. Adorable, with dark curly hair, eyes so dark they looked black, and an olive complexion that people would kill to have. He had all four of us wrapped around his little finger from day one. 

Unfortunately, our lives weren’t guaranteed, not that life was ever to be taken for granted. When Trey’s first birthday drew closer, Mary became insistent that she go on a supply run. I told her it was ridiculous, a one year old doesn’t really care what he gets for his present, all he really wants to play with is the wrapping paper anyway. But she wanted, no she swore, she needed to go out and find him something special.

I didn’t like it or agree with it, but Mary was his mother. She wanted him to have something hand picked by her for his first birthday, then come hell or highwater, she was going to do it. I should have known, between the flash of fear when she said she wanted to go and then the promise she made me make before she walked away with Aiden, Deanna’s son, I should have seen it. The promise was easy to make, of course I’d take care of Trey, and God forbid should something happen, I’d take up his care with the same intensity as Mary had. 

Mary didn’t come back. No body. No closure. She was gone. Aiden couldn’t look me in the eye. He definitely didn’t look Eric or Steven in the eye. And as I held Trey to me, knowing that he would feel the tension in our house from Mary’s absence, I knew that he was mine. Forever.

Almost eight months after we lost Mary, as Trey was nearing his second birthday, a new group showed up led by Aaron our resident people finder. They looked haunted, and terrifying, but there was a baby and a teenager in their group so I knew I’d come to know them sooner or later. I was taking Trey for a walk when they showed up, dirty and thousand yard stares all around, but my little boy was excited when he saw they had a little person too. 

“Come here, baby,” I whispered, picking up his toddling self and holding him tight as the group passed. “Can you wave at the little girl?” Trey’s fat fist waved and I caught a few of the adults in the group smile despite themselves. Kissing his dark curls, I turned away and walked back home.

I’d been right, of course, I did get to know the group. Rick Grimes became our security/peacekeeper, along with a fierce looking woman named Michonne. She had taken a keen interest in Trey, asking if she could hold him and I trusted her, somehow. Michonne became a welcome visitor to my house, along with Maggie and her husband Glenn. Maggie’s eyes had landed on my rings and asked a question I’d grown to expect.

“Did your husband not-” I smiled sadly, watching Trey play with a set of blocks on the floor. 

“We never actually made it to the altar.” I thought about the dress I’d found almost a week before I saw the text that ruined it. “I don’t know if he made it or not.” I left it there, and usually that kept people from asking more questions. Grief was easy to deal with, we ALL lost someone, but the unknown? That was far worse and left people speechless with the worry and fear of the status of their missing loved ones. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and I let our eyes meet. “Glenn and I were separated for awhile, and I thought I lost a piece of myself.” 

Nodding, I didn’t share more. Negan and I were a conversation I kept to myself. Even Eric and Steven knew better than to bring him up. Wearing the rings, my diamond set, those were the only evidence that I even thought about him at all. 

Trouble seemed to follow the newcomers into our world. The walkers, the dangerous people, and so much upheaval that I couldn’t possibly tell anyone what I taught or who my students were during that clutch of waves. I lost two young students. I watched another lose an eye. I saw our leader die from a walker. Her husband having preceded her to the grave by the hand of another community member, our physician actually. I watched Deanna lose Aiden. I watched our people learn quickly that we were all so very ill prepared for this new reality we arrived in. And I watched as Rick Grimes and his group try to catch us up to speed.

Out of the entire group, even including Michonne and Maggie, I found the most comfort in getting to know the crossbow wielding redneck that needed a shower worse than some of the feral animals still roaming freely. I had a feeling he and Carol had more than a friendship going, but I caught sight of the woman leaving Tobin’s house so I guessed wrong.

Daryl was soft spoken, despite his outward appearance. He listened and he learned quickly. Lacking tact, he almost made me think of Negan, but then he’d blush and duck his head and the flash of memory would go away and I could have peace again. He was amazing with Trey and Judith, Rick’s little girl. 

When the horde came, it was Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham that led them away. We lost so many fucking lives that day. I had the children whose parents could be convinced of the danger, hidden with me in the church, the preacher Gabriel keeping me company, creepy though he was. We heard the chaos and could almost FEEL the pain of loss even tucked away. 

We all should have known that it wasn’t over. Not when we heard about the attack of motorcycle riding men demanding things on the road. Not when the long haired man who called himself Jesus came along. Not when we lost Denise, or second in line for group doctor since Eric demanded to be allowed to stay with the runners, just in case. He hadn’t been with Mary’s group the day she died, and he still blamed himself. What horrible irony that the one time Denise went out on a run would be the last time she breathed air. 

I’m not sure how I missed his name. I’m not sure how Eric and Steven didn’t hear it. Maybe we’d conditioned ourselves to NOT hear his name. Since I wouldn’t say it, they wouldn’t offer it up, then maybe we’d conditioned ourselves to not acknowledge his name at all. That’s the only way I can explain not knowing he was coming. That he was alive. That the man I’d loved was safe and sound, and apparently he was also the biggest bad that anyone in our community had ever fathomed.


	26. Big Bad Wolf Comes Calling...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly this story is in an alternative universe. That being said, buckle up buttercups, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

It happened pretty fucking quickly. The loss of Denise followed by Maggie’s pregnancy being in danger and then, Abraham and Glenn were dead. At the hands of a shadowy figure that Rick and his group whispered about, but that I didn’t really acknowledge since I still had a few kids to teach. Eric was still going on runs, Steven had taken over for Reg and was working with Eugene to keep the walls strong. 

Trey was growing like a little weed. I’d started to keep track of his growth on the door frame of my bedroom. A notch for every six months after his first birthday. Two marks, and I almost didn’t believe that a little person could grow that much in six months. I was with him, inside, when I heard the commotion outside. A pounding on the gates, metal on metal it sounded like, and must have been since our house was further back than anyone else’s and the sound carried. 

I picked up Trey and walked to the bay window in the living room and knew, as I watched the hard looking people wandering through the streets, that the big bad wolf had come to visit. Little did I know at that moment, that I knew that wolf intimately. 

I’d just stepped out onto my porch as I heard the whistle. And then his voice. A voice that I’d know anywhere. A voice I’d heard moan, scream, growl, and demand. My head jerked toward the sound, and there he was, like a walking dream or nightmare. Wearing the jacket I’d given him, the swagger of his hips, and the scruff I’d told him repeatedly that I loved. 

“Mama?” Trey’s tiny hand cupped my cheek forcing my eyes to land on his little pinched face. “K?”

I nodded, kissing his forehead to sooth him, and me if I was being fucking honest. “Yeah, Mama’s ok, baby.” 

“Holy fuck!” I felt my stomach twist and I knew, without a fucking doubt, that Negan had seen me. “AMARA?!” 

And there he was, standing at the foot of the steps of my porch, looking up at me like he was seeing a ghost. I could fucking relate. “Negan.” I was happy to hear my voice sound steady and not even slightly breathless. “Rick.” I saw our leader looking like the beaten puppy he’d resembled since coming back without Glenn and Abraham. 

“Mama?” Trey’s hand came back to my cheek. I could feel his stress, and I kissed his forehead again, seeing Negan’s eyes widen. 

“Mama?” His deep voice repeated, staring between Trey and I. “How fucking long have we been apart?” 

I rolled my eyes. “Trey, sweetie, can you go inside and find uncle Steven?” I set him on his tiny feet and opened the front door. “Tell him to come outside after he gets you a drink, we have a visitor.” I knew that the entire message would be lost in translation, but I didn’t want my little boy to witness whatever was coming. Turning back to find Negan still staring at me like I wasn’t only a ghost, but that I was a fucking ghost he didn’t really know was almost priceless. “Mary made me promise to take care of him if anything happened- Not that I owe you an explanation.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “So Coach Negan is the big bad, times don’t change much, do they?” 

A woman rushed up to him and they had a quiet heated debate, and then there was a gunshot from the direction of our infirmary and I felt vindicated when he turned to rush toward the sound. But then, asshole that Negan was, he turned back to me and said that one word that once held promise, but now sounded like a goddamn threat, “Soon.”

Carl had fired the shot, I learned later. All the guns were being confiscated, which became a true problem when the inventory was short. Poor Olivia, she’d taken over when Mary passed, was probably in a fit of fear and worry with Negan and his band of assholes. They went house to house, including ours. Steven had come out just as Negan turned the corner to find out the source of the gunshot, and once I told him he was cursing Eric going on a run. 

Negan returned, after the mattresses were removed from ALL the beds (except cribs, thank God), and then the bed frames were taken too. Guns, beds, mattresses wasn’t he just amazing? He came bounding up the steps and demanded that I come with him, to his headquarters, and I could bring Trey with me. 

“No.” Short and sweet, and I saw his eyes flash at my unwillingness. “This is our home, we’re not going anywhere.” 

“Fine,” and I felt vindicated and like I’d won a victory. “Kill that one-” he pointed at a random neighbor and I saw the same woman who’d tattled about whatever earlier raise her gun.

“WAIT!” I looked down at the man I’d once thought I’d live the rest of my life with, and saw a complete stranger standing in his spot. “I’ll come, but Trey stays.” I swallowed past a lump that was forming in my throat. Trey was inside with his toys during this, and I walked inside and told him I had to go for a very short trip, but that his uncles would be with him the entire time. Steven was looking very green, having witnessed our showdown through the same bay window I’d stood in front of earlier that day. “Don’t worry,” I told him, giving him a hug of his own. “I’ll be back, I swear.” He didn’t look convinced, but he knew that Trey could pick up on our stress so he forced it down. “Now,” I held out my hands and Trey launched himself into my arms. “Kiss Mama goodbye, and I’ll make uncle Stevie promise two bedtime stories.” Trey gave me a wet sloppy kiss on my cheek and I smacked my lips against his cheek loudly getting a giggle. “I love you, baby.”  
“Love ya,” and then he was wiggling to be let back down. I set him down, gave him a long lingering look because I wanted nothing more than to stay with him and read books all night long, but instead, I would go with Negan if only to save another life.

The ride to wherever he was taking me was quiet and strained. He knew me well enough to know that he couldn’t force me to speak if I didn’t want to. Negan did try, however, to get me to say anything. I think he was shocked by how angry I seemed. How irritated his very presence was, and of course he thought he knew the answer.

“Who is he?” I waited, wondering what the fuck he meant. “Amara, who is he?”

I finally turned to face him, happy to see he was paying attention to the road. I studied his profile, seeing the very subtle differences that eighteen months could create on someone’s face. I wondered if I looked different to him? 

“Answer me, princess.” I snorted and he shot me a look. A glare actually. 

“First of all, I’m not a princess.” I turned back to stare out my window. “Second of all, you don’t fucking have any fucking right to order me to do anything.” I heard his sharp intake of breath at this. “And lastly, I’d answer your idiotic question if I knew what the fuck you were asking. Who’s who?”

I could hear the leather of his gloves tighten on the steering wheel. “Whoever you ended up with.” What? I was forced to turn to face his profile again. Was he insane? 

“The fuck are you talking about?” I sounded as uneducated as his question would assume he was. “Who the fuck has time for romance now?!”

“Romance?” It was his turn to snort. “No one said ‘romance’, sweetheart.” 

“I’m not your sweetheart either, Negan.” I growled, forcing myself to tear my gaze away from the sharp lines of his face, the curve of his lips, the scruff I’d always wanted him to sport, but he hadn’t because he thought it looked too dangerous for a coach. 

Another clutch of his gloves against the wheel. “Not mine, then whose?” 

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” I refused to face him again, clearly he’d gone completely bonkers from the strain of the world collapsing. “I’m not with anyone, unless you count Eric and Steven, then I guess I’m the unicorn in a gay marriage, but I’m the unicorn that doesn’t get fucking touched, you asshole.”  
“Are you trying to tell me that in a year and a half, you haven’t once had anyone-”

“Stop right fucking there, Negan.” Still staring at the nonexistent view outside the steadily moving truck I felt like I wanted to reach over and slap the shit out of him. “Again, none of your fucking business, but NO, there’s been NO ONE since the world went to shit.”

“I-” He started, but I went on.

“Is this your way of easing me into the conversation about your mistress? Did you rescue her and are you taking me to show me that you found your ‘one’?” I snarked at him, thinking that sounds about right. He just stole the beds of an entire community to show what a big cock he had, so why not show your ex that you leveled up during the apocalypse? 

“Mistress?” He sounded uncertain, but I didn’t check to confirm. “Sweet- Amara, what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“The redhead?” I offered, rolling my shoulders to release the rapidly building tension in my neck. “You know, the naked one in the selfie you two took in her bed?” I waited, but nothing came from his side of the truck. “Too vague? Maybe you had a LOT of redheads that took naked selfies with you in their bed, wouldn’t surprise me.” 

“Amara,” it came out as a whisper, and it sounded pained, but I didn’t care. “Why didn’t you say-”

“When?” I finally turned and saw that his eyes looked pinched with whatever emotion he was feeling currently. “When was I supposed to say it? When you rushed off to supposedly your ex wife’s deathbed? When you were rushing to a job that you didn’t need to take? When you barely spoke to me when you picked up a bag I PACKED FOR YOU to leave me with?” I watched him swallow hard. “I was so fucking stupid wasn’t I?”

“You don’t understand.” Negan’s voice sounded like he was fighting a cold, it was hard to hear. 

I snorted again. “Damn right I don’t.” I turned back to the window. “Take me back, Negan. Back to my son, back to my family. This is pointless.”

He didn’t, because of course he didn’t. Instead, the ride was silent again. I didn’t pay attention to the route, I knew that I’d be back in Alexandria soon, but I would be driven back by one of his people. I wouldn’t have to come alone. And I wouldn’t have to stay in his presence for much longer. I’d let him have whatever say he thought he needed, and hopefully, I’d be home by morning.

The Sanctuary. What could be said about the Sanctuary? It was a former factory, clearly. It was ‘secured’ by foaming at the mouth dead, which was an interesting touch. And the people that lived there appeared to be a cult.

What else would you call a bunch of assholes that knelt in the dirt as Negan of all people walked by? Or God help me, who answered “I am Negan” or “Negan” when the asshole next to me asked them who they were. Seriously, what was in the fucking water here? Note to self: Don’t fucking drink ANYTHING in these walls. 

The harem. That was what I had a feeling was coming. That’s a lie. I’d assumed that I’d fucking meet my replacement, absolutely, but I had no idea that my replacement was a multitude. 

I shook my head as they clamored for his attention, realizing that Daryl was standing next to me with a start. I’d forgotten that he’d been taken, and he looked terrible. Dirty, but that was normal for Daryl, and those sweats? Ew. He was looking down and I wondered if it was because of me.

“Daryl?” I kept my voice down, I had learned that trick from Negan after all. I saw Daryl’s fist flinch so I knew he heard. “Are you alright?” Another flinch, this time in his shoulder. Shit, had this moron hurt him? “Damn him.” 

“Amara,” I glanced up and saw that Negan was watching me. I raised an eyebrow and waited. “Come with me, please?” Ah, not an order, how lovely. “D, take our guest back to his rooms.” He shot a look toward Daryl and I felt my stomach twist. 

Wondering if I should just put my foot down and demand my return to Alexandria, I looked around the room his little women were loitering in and I felt my lips go tight. MY FURNITURE. This was the furniture from our house, the family room to be exact. That fucking ass-

“Amara?” My eyes flashed to his and I saw him gulp again. “Let’s go somewhere more private.” Good idea, wouldn’t want your fucking cocubines to see me rip you asshole to sternum, would you? 

I stalked toward the door he was holding open for me and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was radiating rage. And if he assumed the room he brought me to would lessen it, he was a fucking moron. Our living room furniture in one corner and MY FUCKING BED right there. 

“You motherfucking-” I felt his hand on my elbow and jerked free, ignoring the tingle his skin created against mine. Turning to face him I almost got the rest unleashed, but Negan never fights fair, ever. He tugged me to him and then his lips met mine and I felt it still. The same rush, the same need, and God fucking help me the same love. 

He nipped at my lower lip and I sighed, letting his tongue in for a dance with mine. And my hands found the back of his head, and my body was flush against his and I didn’t care for a moment about the text or the other women just outside. All I cared about was the way he felt against me. The taste of his mouth. The scent of him. And the fact that I missed him. That I felt more relief that I wanted to admit to that he was alive. And that I wanted him. Just as much as I had the very first time we kissed. 

“God, I missed you,” he breathed when we came up for air, his breath fanning my wet lips. “I was so fuckin’ scared that you were GONE.” And then he dipped back in for more and I forgot why I didn’t want this, him. Why I needed to go home, why this was a bad idea. “I love you, Amara.”

That was the trigger, it seemed, hearing him say he loved me let me pull away. I gave a harsh laugh. “You love me?” I shook my head and walked toward one of the windows that was dressed in the curtains we’d chosen for our living room. “Love? You LOVE me?” I wondered when the words would make sense again. “There are how many women outside sitting on MY fucking furniture, waiting to TOUCH you, Negan?” 

I heard him sigh. Exasperated, that’s rich. “I know how it must look-”

If I kept snorting, Eric was going to end up calling me Miss Piggy, I fucking knew it. “It looks like you replaced me pretty fucking easily, Negan.” I turned and took note of a baseball bat wrapped in barbwire. “Interesting weapon.” I saw him flinch. “Wait, why did you look like that when I-”

Another gulp from him and his eyes tightened. “Lucille?” 

“What about her?” I was confused, and then he raised the bat. “You named it after your ex wife.” I shook my head and laughed, Jesus, this was getting better and better. “So you have a harem,” I pointed in their general direction. “And a bat named after your ex wife.” Head nod toward the wooden plank. “Where the fuck does the missing me coming in?” 

I watched him look around the room. The furniture and decor. Really? 

“You went back to our house and gutted it so your new digs would look classy?” Yeah, I was done. “Who’s going to drive me back to Alexandria?” He stared at me like I’d lost MY mind. “Seriously, I’m out. This is ridiculous. The feigned jealousy of an imaginary lover of mine. The bat named after your ex. The fucking harem sitting their weird Stepford wife looking asses on MY former furniture. And MY FUCKING BED looking like a porn set when I don’t own a mattress anymore. Yep, I’m done.” I turned toward the door.

“It’s all here.” His voice was still quiet, but it stopped me. “Everything from our house. Including all your-”

“Tell me you don’t have a fucking clothing shrine sitting here, Negan. Or-” I groaned. “Do your girls get to play dress up as me? Because that’s fucking disturbing.” 

“No,” his voice was low, but not the same seductive tone I remembered, this was far different. “They touch nothing in this room, especially not your things.” I shook my head, he sounded almost insulted that I’d suggested it. “I’d kill everyone in this building if they touched your-”

“You’d murder people over my underwear?” I shook my head, but didn’t face him. “Let me go, Negan. You made your life, and I have one of my own. Hell, you even have variety.” 

“I only want you.” Another whisper, and it cut me to the bone. “Just you, Amara-”

“Then set me free, Negan,” my hand was on the doorknob. “Or lock me up with Daryl, because that’s the only way I’m staying here.”


	27. Yes, This Does End in a Cliffhanger (can feel the glaring from here)

“No.” As short and simple as my first denial had been, only he was certain that I wouldn’t randomly order someone’s death to defy his. 

I turned to face him with a loud sigh. “OK, let me try it this way. Either put me in with Daryl, or near Daryl, have someone drive me home, OR I’ll fucking walk back.” Arms crossed over my chest, I waited. 

He was glaring at me, not as heated as it could be, but clearly I wasn’t behaving as he expected. Well too fucking bad, buddy. “It’s too late to head back,” he ground out through a clenched jaw. 

“Then I guess I’m bunking with Daryl.” I offered, turning back to the door. “Yell for a minion and have him-”

He’d come up behind me, I could feel his heat, but before I could say another word he turned me around to face him. “You’re still the most infuriating woman I’ve ever-” and then his mouth attacked mine again, and I wish I could say I fought it. The feeling of his lips against mine, the temptation of his flicking tongue, the way his hands roamed down my arms. I wanted to, or my brain did at least, the rest of my body wouldn’t comply. 

My fingers clenched into his hair, holding him to me as my lips met his movement for movement. My tongue refused to lie still, instead choosing to play with his. And the moan he earned when his hands pressed into my lower back, forcing our bodies tight against one another was clearly a dead on hit. I want to say that I fought against him pulling my shirt over my head, or that he removed his jacket by himself. That I didn’t unzip his jeans, that I didn’t help him pull my own pants free. I wish I could say that I didn’t sigh when our naked bodies touched, that I didn’t moan when my back met our bed. I want to be able to say that Negan was fully to blame for the way our bodies came together, but I can’t. Every thrust he gave, I parried. Every nip, every bite, every scream and moan, we were partners. 

I just wished, once we were panting and pressed together in the afterglow, that it meant something. I truly wanted us to be able to recapture what we had before- but that was the biggest prayer that couldn’t be answered I’d ever entertained. Because I knew, as I slipped off to the first truly restful sleep I’d had since he went to Lucille’s bedside, that as soon as morning dawned, I’d be leaving him. And this time, I had a feeling it would be truly permanent.

I heard him when he woke up. I’d been up from the first lighting of the sky. A coward, I guess, since I wanted to have his warmth for as long as I could before I demanded to be returned to Alexandria. To my family and my son. To my own people. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed the feel of his skin pressed against mine. The mornings where we’d wake up so tight together that it would startle us. The way he stretched, without ever releasing me from his embrace. Or how I knew he wanted me, even without the dreaded morning wood. I missed the man I fell in love with, but I knew, as I felt his hardness against my back, that this man wasn’t him. The man I fell in love with disappeared before the world went to shit. And while this one wore his face, spoke with his voice, it wasn’t Negan. Or at least not the Negan I thought I knew. My Negan.

“I can actually hear you thinking, Amara.” I closed my eyes at the sound of his voice, that growl all husky and dark that was only found upon waking. “You still want to go back, don’t you?”

I nodded, feeling a pain blossoming in my chest at the thought of it, but Trey’s tiny face came to mind and it lessened slightly. “Yeah, I do.” His arms were wrapped around me and I could feel his stress at the thought of it. “It’s where I belong.”

“You belong with me,” quiet again, but loud enough for me to hear. “I know that I lost the right to think it, Amara, I do. I just-” I felt his lips touch the top of my head. “I need to explain, or try to.”

“I’ll let you have your say, Negan, but then you tell someone to drive me back.” Negotiation, just like when he was selling cars. 

“Deal,” and then his lips met my neck and I arched back into him. “But first-” I was on my back and Negan was reminding me of one of the many reasons that I missed him.

We dressed, I ignored his offer of my own clothing, including fresh underwear. I didn’t trust it. Seeing my own things, knowing that somewhere nearby were the women who kept him company, in every sense of the word, would send me running mad. Once we were seated on our former living room furniture, Negan glaring at me when I refused a drink or breakfast, I told him to tell me what he thought I should know.

“I didn’t know you saw the selfie,” no shit, I wanted to say, but I waited. “It was ONCE, Amara. One fucking stupid time, and I regretted it from the fucking moment it happened.” I raised an eyebrow but still didn’t speak. “She was a customer. She came in after-” He leaned back against the sofa. “After your parents died,” I flinched at the memory. “Do you remember me going for my checkup?” I nodded, yeah, vaguely. “I had told you that I wanted to do everything with you, Amara, and so I asked the doctor to do a complete workup. I mean he checked everything.” I was confused about what the point was, Negan was healthy as a fucking ox. “Including my sperm count.” And now I was truly fucking bewildered. “Lucille and I hadn’t gotten pregnant,” I’d hope you hadn't, since you’re a man, fucker. “And it made me wonder. I got the results, everything was fine, but I’m-” he sighed. “Sterile. I can’t be a father, naturally at least.” And? “I don’t know why, Amara, but hearing that I couldn’t have a family with you, that you wouldn’t get to glow from carrying my baby, it flipped my idiot switch.”  
“Should have had that fucker removed,” I muttered, but he kept going, ignoring me for now.

“She came in, looking like the exact opposite of everything that I fucking love about you, and I flirted. She flirted, and the next thing I know-”

“You slipped and your enormous cock slipped in?” I deadpanned, because fuck him, that’s why. “You had a midlife crisis and ruined our future. Congrats. Can I go now?” 

“Damn it, I’m not finished, Amara.” I clenched my jaw and waited again, with a glare forming. “It was once, I don’t even fucking remember taking that fucking picture. And then she was calling all the time. And texting all the time. If I’d known you seen it, fuck that would have made it fucking easy. She was threatening to tell you. Hell, if you’d scrolled up, you would have seen that she took a picture of you walking from class. It scared me shitless, Amara, this fucking crazy woman-”

“Who you fucked, Negan,” I bit out. “You fucked her. You gave in to whatever fucking temptation you want to call it, and then she went psycho, according to you. You created a mess, then you wanted to what? Ignore it?” I stood up. “You had your say, Negan, now call whomever is taking my ass back to Alexandria and you can get back to servicing your women.” 

“They’re not you,” he offered and I rolled my eyes. “Not a single one of them could hold a candle to you. And there’s so fucking many of them because not a single one of them is the FULL FUCKING PACKAGE that you are.” Another eye roll. “Damn it, Amara. I did this-” he stomped to the closet that I had completely ignored and yanked the doors open. There it was, my entire fucking wardrobe, including shoes. “And this-” He opened up the drawers of my dresser and I could see all the lace and satin of my lingerie. “And this-” Another closet door yanked open and I saw IT, my wedding dress still in the plastic garment bag hanging between his own clothes. “Because I can’t fucking let you go. The furniture? It SMELLS like you. I sit on that fucking couch and I remember you riding me after school.” I had a flash of lust at the memory. “That fucking chair? I bent you over it and made you scream using just my fucking tongue. There’s still a tiny stain on the arm. OUR bed? I tried to keep from having to wash the linen because your perfume lingers on EVERYTHING.” 

“And the furniture-” I jerked my head to where they had been waiting for him.

“We never used the fucking family room.” Fair. “It didn’t smell like you, or remind me of making love to you, then I didn’t fucking care.” He was back in front of me, tilting my head up with a finger under my chin. “Every single thing you see that I’ve brought here, that is yours or was in our house, is here because I fucking NEEDED it to keep me sane. Anything that reminded me that you were fucking real, Amara Kendall. That you loved me. That we had a fucking future before all this fucking shit. I would have walked through fire to keep it.” 

“So they haven’t played dress up with my-” he growled and then my back was against the door and his mouth was back on mine. The force of it made me lose my breath, his fierceness, the way he seemed tortured almost convinced me to stay, but then along with Trey’s face I saw Eric’s and Steven’s and I pulled away. “I still have to go back, Negan.” His forehead was on mine. “My family-”

“Is MY fucking family too, Amara.” He sighed. “Eric, Steven, and if you’ll fucking let me, Trey too.” His eyes were locked on mine. “Let me love you again, Amara. Please?”


	28. I Was THREATENED...

Negan bartered. Negan begged. Negan demanded. Negan threatened. In the end, though, he gave in. I needed to be back in Alexandria with my son and my family. I needed to NOT be within touching distance of him so I could make a decision about where we would go from here.

He didn’t like it. Of course he didn’t, but I refused to have his people bumrush Alexandria and abduct my family just so he could have his cake and eat it too. With another kiss, one that left us both flushed and breathless, he finally caved. Using a walkie talkie that I hadn’t noticed before, he called for Laura to come to him. I almost asked if he was insane, one of his women and me on the road would come to nothing BUT bloodshed, but he rolled his eyes at the look on my face.

“Laura is one of my fiercest people, Amara,” he sighed and tugged me onto his lap as he sat back on our sofa. Burying his face in my neck, I could feel him inhale the scent of my skin. “I don’t trust the men, not with you, and she won’t hesitate to keep you fucking safe while you go back to-”

I nodded. “So she’s not one of my replacements?” His smile curled against my skin, and my eyes fluttered shut as I felt his mouth open and his teeth graze my pulse.

“No, she’s not, and neither are they, you know that.” The heat of his breath against the dampness he was creating on my skin made goosebumps rise to the surface. “Say the word, Amara, and they’re gone. All gone. I found you again, they’re redundant.”

Biting my lip at the very thought of having Negan all to myself, I had to shake it off. Lust. That’s all this was, and I couldn’t make such a fucking heavy decision on my wet panties alone. “I have to get back-”

The bite that he gave me at that was no joking matter, and I had a flash of a long ago conversation about him marking me. Jesus, he really was a fucking territorial shit, wasn’t he? I moaned at the sting of his teeth, and the kissing and licking that followed, soothing the skin he’d terrorized. “Mine.” He growled, and I knew I was right. He was making sure that every single person in Alexandria, and anyone (including his brides) that I came into contact with on my way out knew exactly who I was and who I belonged to.

“Marking me?” I whispered, and his hands clutched my waist tighter. “I haven’t made up my-”

We were interrupted by a knock on the door, but I could almost feel how irritated he was by my uncertainty. He expected us to fall back into our former roles. He Negan, me Amara. A really fucked up version of Tarzan. I started to get off his lap, but his hold on me was as strong as ever, and I was held in place as he told the person who knocked to come in. I could see, behind the woman around my age who was dressed for runs and battle, his women long necked to see what was going on in his room. Eyes widened at the sight of me on his lap, at his hands wrapped around me, and at the glowing burn of the bite he’d given my neck. Shit.

“Boss?” The woman who must be Laura spoke, and he must have gestured for her to come further in and shut the door, but my eyes were on the women waiting for him. Not all of them looked upset by my spot on his lap. Not all of them looked jealous or irritated, in fact, they looked relieved. What the hell?

Negan told Laura that she was taking me back to Alexandria. And as I listened to him explaining how important I was to him, how he expected her to keep me as safe as she would if he was her travelling companion, he also gave her another order.

“Stay with Amara while she packs.” What?! “Her son, Trey, is just as precious, understand?” I watched her nod and smile. “There might be two more coming back too, Eric and Steven. I want them all under guard, no one approaches, no one touches any of them, get me?” More nodding. “If you need to take someone with you, then take Arat. The others, they aren’t-” I blanked out as he kept going. Wasn’t he being pretty fucking cocky about my answer? What the fuck did he think? I would just drive back and start putting all our shit together and wave bye as we hit the road again? The fuck was wrong with him?

“Negan,” I broke in, but he was still issuing orders. “NEGAN.” He stopped talking and looked into my face. “I haven’t said yes, I haven’t said that we’d come stay with you.”

And then, showing at least a tiny bit of the confident asshole that I’d fallen in love with without the horrors that I knew he was now capable of, his dimples came out and his smile grew. “Oh, princess, we both know you’re coming back home. It’s only a matter of when.”

I slipped back into complete shock at his certainty. That he KNEW me so well, knew US better than I did, irritated me to no end. He was right, I realized, as Laura and I were driving back toward the community I’d made a new home. He was absolutely correct in how well he knew me. I fucking loved his dumb, arrogant ass, and if I was being honest with myself, I’d been having unconscious pro/con lists running in the back of my head since I first saw him walk toward me.

Hadn’t I once said if we were separated that you could count me out, that I’d join a nunnery because no man would ever hold me in the thrall he did? That, for me at least, he was it? And we’d just been handed a second chance.

Now the biggest issue, aside from what I’d seen in his abode (yes, I’m talking about his women, come on, people), was how to explain it to Eric.


	29. Damn It, Stop Pestering Me...*swats at the pokers*

We got back to Alexandria around midday. Laura, taking Negan’s words to fucking heart, was on my heels the entire way to my house. And I was moving pretty fucking fast, needing to see Trey and assure myself that my being away for close to a full day hadn’t upset him. 

I’d barely opened the front door when I was grabbed by Eric, and nearly fucking smothered by his chest. “Oh my fucking God,” he was saying, as I fought to breathe. “I cannot believe that Coach Big Dick Small Brain is alive and abducted you!” I was struggling to pull away, but fuck if the apocalypse hadn’t made his flaming ass strong. “I know, I know,” what do you know, bitch, I wanted to ask, but any noise I made was muffled against his shirt. “You must have been SO fucking upset. I mean, there he was in all his hot as fuck glory and after screwing that rancid redhead and flaunting the picture for you to find, poor princess.” Jesus, I finally felt another set of hands and then I was free.

Gasping for breath, which my dear darling best friend took as proof of my distraught state, Steven’s hands were brushing my hair from my face so I could actually get more air into my lungs. 

“God, Eric, trying to fucking kill me?” Then I felt tiny arms wrapping around my legs and looked down to see Trey’s tiny face, brow furrowed, clearly trying to figure out what the holy fuck was going on. 

“Who’re you?” Ah, finally notice my newest accessory? 

“This is Laura,” I reached down and took Trey into my arms. “Laura, this is my insane family. Eric-” He was full on glaring at her, but she took it in stride, hell she looked amused. “Steven-” Steven was more polite, offering a small wave and smile. “And this,” I turned a little so my baby was facing her. “Is Trey. Trey, can you say ‘hi’ to Laura?” 

“Hi,” he offered a tiny chubby wave. This got a full smile from the warrior who brought me home. 

“Hey,” she was still smiling at Trey, because honestly who doesn’t love cute kids? When Eric accused me of something I was completely guilty of, but wasn’t a topic that needed aired in front of my toddler and a complete stranger. 

“You fucked him.” Shit. “Oh my God, you and Coach fucked. I cannot believe this.” He threw up his hands and I nearly broke. “At least tell me that this time you spanked his horrible ass, after all he fucking deserves it.” 

That did it, Laura looked like her ribs ruptured from trying hard to NOT fucking laugh at the image of my tiny self bending Negan over and spanking him for his naughtiness. And Steven and I couldn’t and didn’t hold ours in. Laughing at the pure absurdity of the image, Eric just stared at all of us like we’d done him wrong. Horribly horribly wrong.

Laura stayed inside, she offered to guard from the porch, but I knew we’d have visitors sooner rather than later, and I sure as fuck didn’t want to start it off with Negan’s woman waiting for them like I was a prisoner. While we waited for the inevitable, we had lunch and as I cuddled Trey on my lap afterward, we discussed Negan and what I’d seen at the Sanctuary.

“Of course they all kneel to Coach,” Eric waved off the information like it was understandable. “I mean, you of all people know how fucking amazing that man is. Top to bottom.” He stopped for a moment to savor the idea of Negan’s bottom in technicolor detail and then got back to the point. “I’m more freaked out by the harem and clothing shrine. Jesus, woman, what the fuck kind of power do you hold over him?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Power? I hold power over Negan?” Laura was watching our back and forth and she seemed to be coming to her own conclusions. “I think he felt guilty, like when we had that hiccup before.”

“You mean when he spanked you so hard you had to stand the entire fucking school day?” Laura’s eyes widened and Eric noticed. “That’s right, Negan the almighty, was in a relationship with a school girl.” He pointed at me. “And he was a jealous shit too, tanned her fucking hide because a guy her own age asked her to a formal. Then broke up with her at the end of the day. Seriously, he’s an ass.”

I snorted, and Trey giggled at the noise. “I’m sorry, he’s an ass?” I stared at my best friend like he was insane. “Who practically DROOLED over him the entire time we were together? Thirsty whore.” 

“Bitch, the entire fucking school drooled over that man, you were just too lucky to notice, since he was fucking panting for you.” He shook his head. “And now, in the middle of this horrifying fucking world, he has a SHRINE of your shit and wants you back. When do we leave?” 

My mouth dropped open and I stared. “What?” I expected more kickback. A bigger fight. Hell, I thought he’d go to Rick and start planning for the utter destruction of Negan now that he knew for a fact that he was alive. 

“When. Do. We. Leave?” He spoke to me like I was impaired and I felt like I was. “For fuck’s sake, Amara, he said he’d ditch the concubines if you said the word, say it, and let’s fucking go.”

“What about Alexandria?” I asked, kissing Trey’s curls. “What about Rick and our community, Eric?” 

He rolled his eyes and took Steven’s hand in his, letting their fingers link. “We’ve watched this place go from nirvana to a fucking shit show, Mara, the ONLY reason we’re still here is because Trey’s too little to go on the road with the three of us safely to find another life. You have to know that.” I waited, clearly I’d missed a whole fucking lot while raising Trey. “Between Deanna’s ineptitude, and then Rick’s group’s fucking holy crusade to be in charge of the world, the only part of this shitstorm that’s home is this fucking house. And now we have no fucking beds.”

“A little birdy told me that supplies are down, way down.” Steven offered, his other hand reaching across the table for mine. “Negan,” he looked to Laura for confirmation of what he was about to say, “he expects half of everything, right?” She nodded. “Half of not enough to feed the community leaves the community pretty fucking stark, doesn’t it?” 

“Shit.” I sat back and felt Trey sucking on his fist, a left over baby habit we hadn’t broken yet. “So you’re both absolutely ready to go? Just pack and leave?” 

The two men who constituted what was left of my family nodded. “We’ve been ready, Amara, just waiting for the opportunity of better for the four of us.” My heart clenched, knowing that they stayed for me and Trey, and not because they were settled in here. 

Before I could answer, a knock came to the door and I sighed. Laura stood, but I shook my head at her. “Let Eric or Steven answer, please?” Sitting back down, somehow reading my face and the need for her to appear non threatening to whomever had come to see us, I heard Michonne’s voice and another sigh built. 

Michonne looked at me like I had been a viper in their nest the entire time, which I found somewhat hilarious given that I was here first. She asked all the pertinent questions, and I answered them as honestly as I could. And then, as she was about to ask what it all meant for Alexandria, I told her that it meant nothing, since we’d be leaving. And soon. 

“To go to him?” She said it like I was leaving to freely enter Hell, which given her interactions with Negan it might have seemed like it. I nodded. “And you’ll share everything you know about us?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a spy, Michonne.” I bit out, standing to rock Trey because he’d begun to fuss when the tension in the room built. “I just found out that the man I love survived. Why is it unreasonable to want to be with him?”

I knew, of course, why to her and her group, hell even our group it was unreasonable. The man I loved was a monster in their eyes. Well, too fucking bad. To me he was problematic and mildly irritating, but I’d be damned if strangers were going to make my choice for me. She left, and I felt very uneasy. 

“Don’t worry,” it came from Laura. “It looks like it’s just me that came with you, but trust me, we’re not alone.” I nodded, feeling the fear start to dim. “Just pack, and we’ll head out when you’re done.”

“It’s not too late?” It was late afternoon, we hadn’t been here long, even if it felt like HOURS had passed since we’d arrived.

“Hell no,” she smiled and asked what she could do to help move our packing along.


	30. Popsicles.. Or Negan-sicles?

Packing took longer than Laura expected, even with her help, and I nearly chuckled. Nearly, but I felt mounting tension. What if Rick or the others decided to hold us hostage, knowing that Negan had a connection to us? What if we had to fight our way out? Could we harm the people we’d lived beside for so long just so we could be free?

Chancing a glance at Eric and Steven, both I noticed shoving knives into every available pocket or hidden area, I realized the answer was ‘yes’. We could and would fight to find our way back to him, and that made me wonder if we were completely batshit crazy. Then I remembered that Negan had taken all the guns, and I felt some of my stress ease.

“Laura?” I had just finished the last of mine and Trey’s things, his toys and clothes along with my photo albums and cache of personal stuff, and added the bags/boxes/totes to the stack beside the front door. My unofficial guardian popped her head out from where she’d been helping Eric and Steven. “How are we getting all this shit to the truck?” I gestured to the stack that kept getting higher. 

She smiled and pulled a walkie from under the coat she was wearing. I listened as she told the person or people on the other end that we were ready to load up, and then an affirmative from the other side. Laura met my stare and her grin grew. “The boss wanted to be sure that NOTHING kept you from coming back, safe and sound.” I heard thudding on the gates and then the sound of an engine getting closer. She opened the door to a bigger truck than what we’d come back in and then supervised another woman and a chubby guy as they loaded up our things. 

“That’s a huge fucking truck for this little bit of stuff,” I offered, and she shrugged. “I guess Coach didn’t know how much we took or kept.” I felt overwhelmed. Negan, this entire situation, my entire new survivalist reality all turned upside down by just HIM. Damn it.

“Mama?” Trey had been playing with one of his stuffed animals and had the baby blanket he’d clung to from his first breath tightly held in one fat fist. I reached down to pick him up, knowing that out of every person here, he was the one that I’d die to keep safe. 

“See the big truck, baby?” I walked him onto the porch so he could watch them load our things up. “It’s big, isn’t it?” He nodded solemnly. “We’re going on a trip, Trey. And there’s going to be some changes, but mama will be there with you every step of the way. OK?” He lay his tiny head on my shoulder and watched as strangers, and his two uncles put his entire life into a truck to leave the only home he’d ever known.

We met no resistance in leaving. Dirty looks, yes, but actual interference no. Eric mentioned, since he and Steven insisted on riding with Laura, Trey, and me, that Rick was on a run with Aaron. That explained why Alexandria’s fearless leader hadn’t made a move, but Michonne?   
“She probably hopes that with us gone, Coach will be appeased.” Steven offered, but Laura was noncommittal. I had a feeling that Negan wasn’t known for being appeased by any consolation prize, not even me.

We got back to the Sanctuary as the sun was dipping below the horizon. Laura’s radio squawked with the other truck calling in to let Negan know we were coming in, and he was outside, bat on his shoulder and a grin that would have blinded us all if the sun was still shining. I shook my head as he rushed for my door, Eric assuring me that he was unbuckling Trey from the car seat that Laura had surprised me with. 

“Damn it took you long enough,” he breathed, pulling me from the truck into his arms. I felt the tension he must have worn the entire day start to ease, his fingers brushing my hair away from where it had hidden his territorial marking from the morning. Negan was inhaling the scent of me, while checking for any damage, as though Laura would have let me out of her sight for a moment. “Princess, not a single fucking day from here on out, not one, are you out of my sight.” Dear God, take a minute, Coach. 

“Mama?” Trey had woken up from the nap that the movement of the vehicle had forced on his tiny self. “Mama?” He sounded frantic, and I pulled away from Negan and turned to open my arms for him. I felt him relax as soon as he was in my arms, and I swayed my hips to sooth him further.

“I’m right here, baby boy, right here.” I kissed his soft curls and looked up to see Negan studying the two of us. Sighing gently, I moved closer to Negan still rocking Trey. “Trey? I want you to meet someone, OK?” I felt him nod into my shoulder. Pulling him gently away, so he could face Negan, but still know that I had him safe in my arms, I smiled. “This is Negan, Trey. Negan, this is my little boy, Trey.” 

Negan bit his lip and held out one of his long fingered hands, waving the fingers and making Trey give a soft giggle. “Hey, big guy,” he kept his voice quiet, and stepped closer to us. He reached out with the same hand, slowly, so Trey could make the choice himself. And he did. He reached out and took one of Negan’s long fingers and held tight. “Oh my,” his eyes met mine and my smile grew at the look of astonishment on his face. “Aren’t you just-” He leaned forward and kissed Trey’s forehead. “Ours.” His eyes met mine and I knew, just as I’d known from the first kiss, that this was it. Ours.

Eric, showing a patience that he’d never exhibited before the dead rose, waited until we were inside the building. He waited until we were upstairs and inside the room that once held Negan’s distractions. And once it was just the five of us, he finally turned to Negan.

“Thank God you made it, Coach.” He started and I could see Negan’s shoulders relax, clearly he expected worse from my best friend. “I don’t think I have to tell you that if you hurt my girl again, I WILL take that bat that you named after your ex and shove it so far up your asshole that you’ll be a Negan-sicle, do I?” 

Negan’s eyes went wide, and I cracked up. Jesus, Eric always delivers. And then, not to be outdone, Steven stepped up behind his man and smiled. “And God forbid you hurt her AND Trey, because I promise you this, that bat isn’t going to save you from us.” 

I watched Negan, Trey was reaching for him, but he looked like he was chewing on a rebuttal or retaliation, but then his eyes met mine and he saw our little boy reaching out and shook his head. He put Lucille down and took Trey carefully from me. Kissing his head as naturally as I always did, he rolled his eyes at Eric and Steven. 

“Trust my luck,” his voice was still quiet, clearly wanting to keep Trey as calm as possible. “I find Amara again, and you two, and out of all the fucking threats against my life, it’s a queen and his king that sound the most fucking sincere.” 

Eric smiled and I bit my lip. “That’s because we’re the most protective mama and papa bear your sorry ass will ever meet, Coach, and don’t you forget it.”


	31. Shrines?  Whose is Bigger?

After Eric and Steven reminded Negan of just how much they took mine and Trey’s safety, emotional or physical, Negan told us that there were a second set of rooms down the hall from the ones he called home. Shooting me an almost abashed glance, he mentioned that they were furnished with more of OUR furniture. 

“At least they don’t have my underwear in glass cases with flowers and candles,” I muttered, feeling at loose ends since Trey had taken to Negan’s arms and lap faster than he’d ever taken to a stranger in his entire short life. I watched as MY son bounced happily on Coach’s jean clad leg, grinning at me like the silly toddler he was. 

“Speaking of shrines,” Eric offered, rushing over to the boxes, bags, and totes that Negan’s people had brought up for us. I raised an eyebrow when Negan’s eyes met mine. I had no fucking clue what Queen Eric had in store. “AH HA,” he sounded triumphant and a glance at Steven showed me that he was looking at his lap in bemusement. “THIS, bitch, is shrine worthy, NOT whatever nasty bits and bobs Coach has stored under lock and key.” And in his hands, catching the fluorescent lights overhead, and shocking the living shit out of me because I hadn’t seen him sprint it along with us on our mad dash from Negan and my home, was the fucking frame he’d given me for graduation. “Where should I put it?”

After dinner which Negan had brought up for the five of us, and a LONG conversation about that frame, Negan took Trey and his uncles to show them their rooms. I started after them, but he stopped me.

“Amara, why don’t you take a hot bath?” I stared at him, sure that he’d lost his damn mind. “I’ll be right back.” I watched him rock Trey lightly in his arms and once more kiss his soft curls like he’d been doing it forever. 

“You BOTH had better be right back,” I smiled at my little boy, whose dark eyes were locked on mine, even as he giggled at the bouncing of his new best friend. “He’s only had one night out of my sight, Negan, I won’t make it two.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “She acts like we don’t know which end his damn diaper goes on, but WHO fucking cleans up his vomit?” I gagged a little at the memory of Trey’s first real vomit, nothing at all like the spit up I was used to. “Exactly.” He tipped his finger under Trey’s little chin. “Like Uncle Eric and Uncle Steven don’t know things, we know tons of shit, don’t we, Boo Boo?” Trey giggled again and it was my turn to laugh. “I think Coach wants to make up with you, princess,” the tone was clear, mount him or I will and I shook my head. 

“Still a thirsty little bitch, aren’t you, Eric?” A glance at Negan told me that he was planning on leaving the final decision up to me. That was rare. “If he makes so much as a tiny little complaint-”

“Then we’ll be pounding on your door harder than Coach plans on pounding into you, OK?” Another eye roll and I sighed. “Trust us, Mara, you both need this.” 

“Fine.” I rushed up to kiss Trey good night, promising him that all he had to do was say the word and he’d be right back with mama. And then, harder than when I’d left him with Steven and came with Negan to save a random person’s life, I watched them walk out the door of our new home. 

Inside the bedroom, our bedroom, I found the en suite bathroom easily enough. Shaking my head again, I saw that not only had the asshole brought ALL my clothing, shoes, and accessories, but he’d also gutted our bathroom. All my things, including our towels and washcloths, were carefully arranged, just as they had in our first home. It boggles my mind that he remembered where everything had been placed, that he’d even kept the tiny crystal bobbles that weren’t useful, but I’d thought they were pretty enough to decorate with. On top of the counter, lay a plush towel and beside it, clearly wanting to remind me of better days, sat the same baby doll nightie that I’d worn on our first night in our house. 

Taking my time, even after hearing him return to our rooms, I soaked in the deep bathtub. I had so many questions. The other women, for instance, where were they? He mentioned that he hadn’t wanted to wash the linen from our bed for as long as possible, but did that mean that he’d been forced to because their perfume had covered my own? This tub, was it where they’d soaked? I knew, regardless of how much he wanted us to start over, or pretend that the redhead and then his multiple partners didn’t exist, I had to know more. If only to make this work, I had to know how much of himself and OUR lives he’d given them. 

I braided my hair when I finally got out of the bathtub and dried off. Then, as carefully as the first time I’d put the nightie on, I pulled it over my head and smiled at the fact that it still fit perfectly. The panties, how certain I’d been that they were ruined, slid up my thighs as easily as once upon a time. Taking a final look in the mirror, I saw the mark that his teeth had made on my neck and shook my head at how much and yet little he’d changed. One final touch, a spritz of one of my favorite perfumes, and then I took a deep breath and opened the door separating us. 

He was staring out the window behind our living room chairs. The leather jacket had been gone once we settled in for dinner, and Lucille was propped up next to the bed. I took a moment, brief though it was, to study Negan. The jeans, the boots, the t-shirt, and God help me that scruff, had I ever really stopped loving him? 

“Penny for your thoughts,” he whispered, turning to face me, almost the entire room between us. 

I swallowed and felt my lips fall into an easy smile. “‘The opposite of love is not hate; it’s indifference.’” I offered, and watched his brow furrowed in confusion. “It’s a quote that just came to me,” still whispering, even though Trey was with my best friends on the other end of the floor. “I thought I didn’t love you anymore, but that was stupid.” He started toward me, careful and slow. “I could never stop loving you,” a huff of breath, “it’s the only constant in my life.” 

“I’m sorry, Amara,” he was directly in front of me, his fingers brushing my cheek, and I realized he was wiping away a tear that I hadn’t noticed falling. “I will spend the rest of my fucking life proving how sorry I am, how much I-”

I reached up and stopped him with a finger on his lips. “I know, Negan, I do.” I sighed, and moved away from him, toward our sofa. “Come here,” he sat and I curled into his lap. “I have questions, will you answer them?” 

“Anything,” he offered, and so I asked, and he answered. 

We spent hours hashing out what had happened, what would happen now, and where the other women were. He seemed to truly understand that I NEEDED the reassurance that this wasn’t a whim, that he would be completely sated by having ONLY me and that he understood that I wouldn’t share him with anyone else. Once we seemed to run through the litany of all of my fears, including whether they’d been in our bed (a ‘no’ so loud I worried that Eric would be busting down the door to make sure we were alright), or our bathroom (seriously, he was pretty fucking appalled by the thought of them being within touching range of anything that was MINE), he finally picked me up and carried me to our bed.

“If you want to just sleep tonight,” I could see how much the idea of lying next to me again, even without sex was something he yearned for as much as I did. “Then that’s fine with me, sweetheart.” 

Looking up at him , I bit my lip. “Negan, if you’re not naked and on top of me in the next-”

I’d never seen a grown man lose his clothing as fast as Negan did, his mouth locked on mine and then those panties I’d been so impressed hadn’t been ruined during the first wearing were ripped and toss somewhere behind him and then we were joined and I swore, as I arched into his body and he swallowed every noise I could hope to make, that I’d die before we were parted again.


	32. Invisible Clothing. Hell Even an Emperor Had Some, Right?

I woke up completely naked. I was pretty fucking sure that the top part of the nightie had stayed on for the duration of Negan reminding me of how much he adored me, but- Nope, naked. He was pressed tight against me, clutching at me as though I might disappear if he didn’t hold me tight enough, and he was as naked as me. Now that made sense, I watched him undress. Honestly, two days back and he had already short circuited my fucking brain.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he growled, burying his face in my neck after sliding down further on the bed. I felt his teeth brush against the newly tender skin, and I had a flash that he’d freshened up his little bite on my throat. 

My hands were touching his where they held tight around my stomach. “I was wondering how I missed you removing the nightie from me, Negan.” His chuckle vibrated against my skin, even as his mouth was feasting on my neck again. “And did you BITE me again?” 

His lips were sucking at my pulse and I knew he was using his entire arsenal to distract me. “I wanted to be sure that there wasn’t any doubt about just WHOSE you are.” As though pissing on my leg in public was too blasé, I rolled my eyes. “Does it bother you, princess?” 

“Not as much as it should,” I muttered, arching back into him. Rewarded with another growl, I smiled. “Have you turned feral, Negan? Should I have Eric go on a run to a nearby vet’s and get you some shots?” 

He rolled me onto my back and was between my legs before I could make sense of the movement. “Comparing me to a dog, sweetheart?” His voice was low, but his eyes were twinkling in the early morning sun. Daring me to play with him, I wrapped my legs around his hips and used my feet to press him down into me. 

“Are you going to deny you’re all alpha male, baby?” I whispered against his lips, then flicking the tip of my tongue out to touch his full bottom lip, I grinned as he took the bait. His mouth snarled down onto mine and for the next few minutes we got back to one of the things we were best at, forcing noises unheard of in polite conversation from one another.

The knock came as I was laying with my head on his chest, listening to his heart beating under my ear. Eric’s voice, accompanied by Trey’s tiny demand for me, had Negan out of bed with his jeans on as quickly as he’d gotten naked the night before. He was smiling as he opened our bedroom door, telling me to grab something so our boy wouldn’t be scandalized by my nudity. 

I laughed and shook my head. As though I didn’t just shower with Trey most of the time to kill two birds with one stone. Getting out of bed, I realized that all of our things from Alexandria were in the other room, and I was stuck with the ones he had hanging in the closet. Ugh. 

I braced myself and pulled open the closet that held my old clothes. Dresses, lots and lots of dresses. I flicked through the hangers, hearing the giggles of Trey forced me to rush and grab the first dress I came to. I didn’t pay attention to which one, throwing it over my head after I yanked a bra and panty set from the drawer he’d opened before. 

Barefoot, like Negan had been when he rushed to get Trey from Eric, I opened our bedroom door and saw a sight that took my breath away. Eric and Steven, I saw in my peripheral were grabbing their boxes and taking them from the room, but it was the vision I saw on what had once been our family room sofa that was threatening to make tears fall. 

Negan, harsh, sarcastic as fuck, Coach Negan was dandling Trey on one knee. He used one of his freakishly long fingered hands to keep my baby boy steady, while in the other he had Trey’s favorite stuffy dancing. He was making silly faces, and talking in a truly silly voice, as I leaned against the doorway and watched. 

“Mama is watching us like we’re crazy, buddy, what do you think about that?” And Trey’s giggle carried, causing Eric to give his own laugh as he came back for another load of stuff. 

I pushed off the doorframe and stood beside the two of them. “Mama is looking at Negan like he’s crazy, because he is, Boo Bear.” I opened my arms and Negan helped Trey’s attempted leap bear fruit. Trey’s eyes were looking me over like he’d never seen me look the way I did, and I realized he hadn’t. I was wearing a dress, my hair was braided, and I had no fucking doubt that I looked unbearably happy. “Mama missed you,” I kissed his hair and smiled as his fist caught the rope of my braid. “This is a new toy, isn’t it?” He flipped my braid back and forth, grinning up at me. “You look happy, baby.” Another kiss on his forehead and I realized Negan was studying us.

“So does Mama,” Negan offered, quietly. He stood up and wrapped his arms around me from behind so he could stare down at Trey in my arms. “Is Mama happy, buddy?” More baby giggles. “Dada hopes he can make her stay that way.” 

“Dada?” I asked, leaning back into his bare chest. “Committed already, Negan?” His chin propped on the crown of my head. 

“I never stopped being committed to you, Amara,” his heart was pounding hard into my back. “And I meant what I said yesterday, not a single fucking day are you out of my sight from here on out.” 

We heard a sigh from the doorway and turned together to see who was bringing bad news to our happy bubble. Laura, she looked abashed at interrupting, but I could see she was worried about something.

“I have a feeling you won’t get a say in that, Boss,” she offered, holding up her walkie. “You’re needed downstairs, there’s a-” She glanced down at the floor in front of her before continuing. “Disruption in one of the supply trucks.” 

Negan got dressed after asking Laura to grab some food for Trey and me, and Eric and Steven if they wanted to eat with us, and then she was told to stick to us like glue. I watched, after putting Trey in the middle of our bed, as he threw on a clean shirt, put his boots on, and pulled on the jacket I’d bought him so long ago. I picked up Lucille and handed her to him, causing him to sigh.

“I swear to fuck, whoever is down there starting shit is going to wish they hadn’t,” he muttered into my forehead, after he’d tugged me to him. “Stay here, please?” Not an order, but one that I’d agree to, for now. I nodded, and he kissed me hard as though he was reminding himself I was real. Then he detoured to our bed, picked up Trey and gave him his own kiss on the cheek, and handed him to me. “Stay away from the windows?” Another nod. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.” 

Eric and Steven decided to join us for breakfast. It was tense, since Laura was taking the guarding thing to the literal definition and refused to sit and partake with us. Trey was amazingly serene, taking bites that I made sure were small enough not to choke him as fast as I could cut them up. I wish that I had as easy of a time eating after Negan had to rush away to God knew what.

“He’ll be fine,” Eric said, seeing me trying to talk myself into a bite. “He survived this long, he has all these people, Coach is indestructible.” Sure, I thought, for a HUMAN. 

“He’s right,” Laura’s voice shocked me, since she’d been pacing and watching out the windows as well as checking the doors. “Negan is like a fucking cat.” 

I snorted, but then we heard voices approaching. Laura opened the door and gestured for the four of us to stand back. Then I heard Negan’s voice and felt my entire body relax marginally. The second voice, on the other hand, had my anxiety ratcheting up a thousand degrees.

Carl. Rick’s teenaged son had decided to take matters, or if I heard correctly, machine gun in hand. He’d killed several of Negan’s Saviors, and almost hit Negan if the eavesdropping was to be believed. Jesus. I listened as Negan spoke quietly to the boy. Only catching bits and pieces, but understanding that Carl felt he could do what his father couldn’t. Kill Negan.

He’d kept Carl in the outer room, with our family room furniture, while Steven, Eric, Laura, Trey, and I were in our bedroom finishing breakfast. A quiet knock sounded on our door, and Laura opened it a crack. Negan stood there, peeking past her to see that Trey was occupied with some toys that Eric and Laura had brought in with us before he’d come back upstairs.

“Let me in,” he whispered, and I realized that Carl was beside him watching curiously. 

Laura opened the door wider, and Negan walked purposely to me and Trey. Kneeling down beside us, I could feel Carl staring. “I have to take Carl back to Alexandria,” his hand took mine and I had to smile when I realized that Trey was watching Negan like he was understanding the conversation fully. “I will be back, TODAY, Amara.” I nodded, and he kissed both Trey and I again. “Keep them safe,” he barked at Laura, and with a parting to Eric and Steven he left. 

I was fine while he was in the room. Even as he told me he was leaving, I still felt fine, after all he was right there. When he walked out, the door shutting behind me, I could feel the anxiety build. “He’s not going alone,” Laura again, and I met her eyes as she finally sat down. “Trust me, he’ll be guarded, and he’ll be safe. They won’t get one over on Negan.” 

I only wish I was so certain, I thought, bouncing Trey on my knee as I tried desperately to force my fears down.


	33. Blood, Gore, Aphrodisiac?

Eric and Steven talked me into unpacking Trey’s and my things while we waited for Negan. Laura looked relieved that it would give me something besides fear of whatever was greeting the man I loved in Alexandria to focus on. She offered to help keep Trey occupied while we found places for all of our things.

Luckily my closet wasn’t packed full, and there was an empty drawer in the dresser, so all of Trey’s clothes found a spot easily enough. Not that he had a huge wardrobe, but being able to put them away made the move feel real somehow. Then came his toys, with the basket we’d kept them in at the house we shared, easily tucked under the coffee table from our first house. His cups and plastic plates, Laura helped find a spot for in the bar in the entry room. She stopped and stared at the frame that Eric had given me when she noticed it dead in the center of the bar.

“What’s this?” She asked, squinting at the photo and I shot Eric a look that would have melted steel.

Eric snorted and walked over to the fearsome guard. Picking up the frame, he grinned widely at the confused woman. “THIS,” he slid his finger along the dusting of hair that seemed to make up the entirety of the image, “is Negan’s happy trail. It’s the tamest naughty picture that Coach ever sent our girl over there, so I blew that fucker up and framed it. I mean, come on, isn’t that fucking lickable?”

I heard Laura snicker and shook my head. “Please,” she whispered to Eric, “call me when Simon comes up here and asks for an explanation?” Who the fuck was Simon? “I HAVE to see his face when you tell him that.”

I shook my head and went back to finding places for things. The photo albums that I’d drug along for the ride, holding all the proof of mine and Negan’s relationship, I laid on top of the same coffee table that had Trey’s toys underneath. I couldn’t help opening the book, and smiled as I felt Trey’s tiny body leaning on my legs to see.

“You want to look at Mama’s book?” He nodded, and I shifted the album so I could scoop him up and sit him on my lap. “See?” I watched his pudgy fingers trace the photos of his mother, Eric, Steven, and me when we were kids. “That’s Mary,” I whispered, smiling and kissing his head. “She was your mommy, but she didn’t make it-” I felt my heart clench at the loss of her again. “She gave me you, baby, and I’m going to make sure you know her.” A flip of the page and Negan started showing up in the photos. Trey, seeing me and his newest pal, bounced a little. “Yeah, that’s Negan, isn’t it?”

Eric and the other two had made their way over, I could feel their bodies hovering over the back of my chair. “God look at how young we all looked.” Eric breathed, his own finger along a group shot of the four of us, before Mary had come back after graduating. “Coach without the scruff, Christ, remember how-”

“How I looked when I didn’t have fuzz covering my mug?” His deep voice from the doorway made my heart pound, but it also released all the stress of him being gone from my body. I turned, and saw the blood splattered across his t-shirt and under his chin. Damn it.

“Negan-” I closed my eyes, hoping that he wasn’t hurt. My tone was irritation mixed with relief, which was confusing even to me. Trey was lifted from my lap and I forced my eyes back open. He was cradling Trey to him, who I was shocked to see didn’t seem fazed by the blood, but the bare face was clearly interesting to our toddler. His tiny hands were stroking Negan’s face like he couldn’t decide whether he liked the change or not. Mama didn’t, if anyone wanted my input.

“Do you like that, buddy?” Negan was asking Trey, smiling at his finger poking one of his dimples. “Dada shaved.” No shit, Dada shaved, I thought, glaring up at him. “Mama looks like she wants to bite Dada, Trey, what do you think?” He caught me, but then again, he was always perceptive. “Maybe your uncles and your auntie Laura,” I snorted at her new title, but noticed her grinning. “Could take you to play at their place while Dada and Mama have a chat.”

Laura, not Eric, stepped forward and held out her hands. I watched, no longer shocked by how easily my little one was taking to his new surroundings and the people in them, as he allowed her to take him from Negan. Of course, Negan didn’t let him go without a kiss, and Laura for her part, brought him to me so I could give him one too. And then they were gone and we were alone.

“Amara,” Negan started, but I held up a hand and took a deep breath. Where to fucking begin?

“Please, just give me a minute to catch my breath and calm my fucking heart down.” It was true, even though the tension was mostly gone, the sight of the blood and rocketed it back up. “Whose blood is that?”

“Not mine,” he offered, kneeling beside me. No shit, I raised an eyebrow. “Some asshole named Spencer.” Ah, Deanna’s surviving family member, gone. “He tried to get me to overthrow Rick for him.” I snorted, of course he did. “I made an example out of him.”

I licked my lips, they felt so dry, and my hand reached out to touch his bare face. “And the shave? What made you decide to get rid of the scruff?” I knew I sounded breathless, but I swear the man could be coated in blood and viscera and I’d want him.

He leaned into my hand, eyes still on mine as he smiled. “It felt right. I have you back and this is the face you know best.” I shook my head. “You really do like the scruff better, don’t you, princess?”

Shocking him, I leaned forward and kissed him, long and hard. Pulling back only enough to be able to speak, I grinned and told him that I loved his face no matter what. “Even with the blood of a traitor splattered over it.” And then I was in his arms, and he was sitting on the sofa with me straddling him. Tugging the jacket off his shoulders, nipping at his lips, I felt his hands sliding up my bare thighs.

“I like you better in dresses and skirts, sweetheart,” his hands were under the skirt of my dress, fingers looping into the waistband of my panties. “Easier access means-” I pulled back long enough to rip his shirt off, even as I felt him rip the side of my panties apart.

“Jeans, Negan,” I growled, as his hands cupped my bare ass. He chuckled, his mouth meeting my neck as I raised up high enough for him to use one hand to unbutton, unzip and then free himself from his pants. And then he was inside of me and I rode him, my fingers tugging at this hair, my lips finding his neck and my teeth threatening to mark him as clearly as he marked me.

It might have been seconds. It may have taken hours or days. All I know is that neither of us was completely naked. Negan had gotten rid of my panties, and try as he might the dress I’d picked wasn’t one that made baring my chest to him simple. He was bare chested, but his jeans and underwear were only lowered to his knees. And the realization that I wanted him so fucking badly that I would screw him still wearing blood from killing someone startled us both.

“Fuck, Amara,” he breathed, our sweaty foreheads pressed together as we caught our breath. “That was a better welcome home than I expected.”

I chuckled, breathless still. “Yeah, I’m not sure it’s what I planned, Negan.”

“‘Even with the blood of a traitor’, huh?” His fingertips were sliding along my thighs, and I fucking swear I could feel the urge to have him again growing by the second. “Fuck, princess, I didn’t think you’d be turned on by-”

I cut him off with my mouth on his. I didn’t think I would be either, but here we were. I laughed into his mouth as I felt him kicking off his boots and pants. Then he was carrying me to our bathroom where he showed me just how fucking hot he could be in the shower after murdering someone.

Darkness was falling when we were dried off, and sated for the moment. Negan used his walkie to let Laura know that Trey, and dinner, could be brought back. I had thrown on a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts, not the one still covered in Spencer and he was in a pair of sweats that reminded me of his time as Coach. A soft knock, and then Trey was toddling toward us on his own tiny feet.

“Look at you,” Negan knelt down and opened his arms for Trey to aim for, and he was smiling as he wrapped his arms around our tiny boy. “He can walk?” It was to me and I nodded with my own grin. “Damn it, I have catching up to do.”

Laura was alone and I raised my eyebrow at the lack of my best friend. “They wanted a ‘date night’,” she offered with a grin.

“Guess that means we get to have Trey all to ourselves, princess.” He told Laura to have a good night, and I wondered about dinner. “They’ll send it up, Amara.” He joined me on the sofa with Trey in his arms. “What do you normally do-”

“We normally,” I reached under the coffee table and pulled out the basket filled with toys and books. “Read and play while we wait for dinner.” Unless I was making dinner, then Eric and Steven kept him company, but they were enjoying their own alone time. “Which book, baby?”

He chose a book about trains, and I smiled as Negan took it from me and opened it up. The book was brand new with Negan reading it, providing new voices for the characters, and the faces he made, dear God. I curled up beside them and smiled as I watched my two guys entertaining one another.


	34. Family, Three or Five...

Dinner and bathtime with Negan helping was new, but not disagreeable. I laughed as Negan looked scandalized when I told him the tub was too big, the sink too small, and while the shower would be easier, if we all stripped off, the bathtub would be ideal. 

“He’s not two yet, Negan, he won’t even realize that we’re all different until later on.” I was pulling off his t-shirt that I’d stolen and shucking his boxers, while he stared. “Dada noticing Mama’s differences won’t help us get Trey ready for bed.” That shook him out of his staring and he helped get Trey undressed as the bathtub filled with bubbles and water. I was truly happy that he’d brought all of our bathroom stuff, which I’d found so odd earlier, since Trey could have a REAL bubble bath for the first time.

“Hand him to me,” I held out my arms and Negan handed me our squirming naked little guy, and I cradled him to me as I watched him undress. Shaking off the flare of lust at seeing him yank down his sweats, I started bouncing Trey and showing him the bubbles. “Look at this, baby, see these.” I scooped up a handful and held them close to him so he could touch them. Watching his face as they popped and covered his hand, hearing him gasp and giggle, made Negan fade for a moment.

“This is his first bubble bath?” His voice was quiet. I looked up and saw his face was a mirror of mine every time I watched Trey have a first time. Nodding up at him, I smiled as he knelt in front of the two of us. “Ready to float in the bubbles, buddy?” Trey’s giggle was like music as he scooped his little body up and helped him ‘fly’. “Mama can get in first, so she can help Air Trey get comfy, then Dada can join, how’s that sound, Boo Bear?” I smiled at him using my nickname for our little guy. 

I stepped into the tub, turning off the water before we created a flood with the weight of the three of us, and sat down. Holding up my arms, I giggled as he flew Trey into my hands. “There he is,” I offered, slowly settling him onto my lap, letting the bubbles cover him. I laughed harder when he flapped his hands, tossing bubbles all around us. “I think he has the hang of it, Dada, what do you think?” I looked up in time to see Negan stepping into the tub and sitting opposite us. Our eyes met over Trey’s flailing hands and listening to his giggles rain over us I felt closer to him than ever before. 

We passed Trey back and forth, managing to actually clean him before all the bubbles disappeared. And tiring him out as we played. A huge yawn from his tiny mouth and I shook my head.

“I think Air Trey is ready for landing, Dada.” I stood up, stepping out first, so I could take him from Negan and dry him off to get him ready for bed. He handed his tiny body to me carefully, since he was now pretty slippery. “Thanks.” I took Trey and lay him on the bare part of the sink counter and dried him carefully as I watched him fight sleep. “Close your eyes,” I whispered in a singsong voice, “close your eyes, and drift to sleep. Mama’s watching, no need to wink.” 

I felt Negan’s heat against my back. “Singing to him?” Quieter still, as he watched over my shoulder as Trey slowly lost his fight. “Never heard that song, Amara.” 

I smiled as I diapered and dressed Trey, still humming a little. “I made it up, the words don’t really matter, but he likes the tune.” Picking him up, I watched while Negan grabbed my impromptu outfit and his sweats from where we’d tossed them. “Now, since we don’t have a crib for him-”

“He sleeps with us tonight,” I was a little surprised he agreed so easily. We rarely, aside from those moments before all hell broke loose on earth, went a night without being intimate. I realized, as he held Trey so I could dress, that this was an intimacy for us. Holding our little boy, and then having him sleep between us as a family, wasn’t that an intimacy of some sort too?

I took Trey back and walked to our bed. Using one hand to tug the sheets and blanket back, I rocked Trey a little when I felt him make the sniffling noise that meant he was making another go at waking up. I hummed as I carefully laid down, him still cradled on my chest, and waited for his Dada to join us. The bed dipped and then Negan’s arms were around both of us, and I knew, as I kept being reminded since we reunited, that this was it. Our life. Our family. Together from here on out.

When I woke up, I was alone in bed, the sun was bright through the windows and I might have felt a surge of fear if I hadn’t heard them giggling where they were playing at the coffee table. I didn’t want them to stop, and I kind of wanted to see how Negan was with Trey without me as a buffer.

“Let’s see how tall we can get our tower, buddy.” I smiled, knowing that Negan had found the blocks. “Here you go,” I could hear the stacking, which made me think that they were using the coffee table for a base. It kept going, until I heard Negan gasp. “I think you made it taller than you, Boo Bear.” I heard the loud smack that meant that Negan was giving Trey one of the dramatic silly kisses that would cause him to- and proving me right I heard him break out into intense giggles. “Let’s knock it down, wanna play monster with Dada?” And then I heard Negan growling loudly and as I lay still and listened I had to hold back giggles at Trey’s own attempts. Like a lion and his cub. And then the tumbling of the blocks falling and more giggles from both of them.

“You two look like you’re having fun,” I sat up and smiled when they both turned to me. “Don’t let me interrupt. I like listening to you two.” 

Negan swooped up Trey and whispered in his ear. Then, as I tried to cover myself up, they were both flopped onto our bed and growling while “attacking” Mama. I was laughing hard enough to worry that I’d make a mess on our bed. Negan tickled me, showing Trey where I was most sensitive, and I realized that I was outnumbered. 

Then the door bounced open and two more bodies joined us on the bed, and I was aided by Eric and Steven, making me laugh as I watched my entire family in one bed, making memories that made the reality outside of the building fade into the background.


	35. Eric...Need I Say MORE?

Once we all got out of our bed, by our I clearly mean Negan’s and mine, Eric and Steven laughingly said they were heading back to their rooms to get ready for the day and Negan called out to them, Trey giggling in his arms. 

“Today’s tour day,” I looked up in surprise. “What, princess? Did you think I was going to keep you locked in the tower?” I shook my head at his goofiness. “I want to show off my girl,” Trey’s hand met Negan’s cheek, his tiny finger digging into his dimple. “AND my boy-” he heard Eric give a mock gasp of shock that he said ‘boy’ singular and Negan rolled his eyes. “BOYS, for fuck’s sake.” Then he looked at Trey in horror and I burst out laughing. 

“He’s heard worse, trust me.” I stepped out of bed and took Trey from Negan’s arms. “Haven’t you, Boo Bear?” I bounced him as he giggled harder. “Who gets the shower first?” This was directed at Negan obviously. 

“Who says we have to take turns?” That voice, low and dark had my stomach clenching in all the best ways. He moved so he was wrapped around my back, his lips meeting my shoulder and forcing my eyes shut. “Trey doesn’t know our differences, remember?” 

My laugh came out huskier than usual. “You want to bargain on the chance he doesn’t put two and two together and-” he rocked into the back of me and I felt him, all of him. Swallowing hard. “I’m pretty sure seeing Dada’s Tab A sliding into Mama’s Slot B will make him suddenly aware of just how fucking different we are,” his teeth were grazing the tender spot he’d bitten and I was happy he was holding me up with his arms wrapped around my waist. “He had a bath last night, if we get him dressed and you call Laura-”

He growled and Trey mimicked him from my arms, causing me to chuckle. “Fine.” Pulling back he asked if I wanted help getting him ready, but I thought he might need a moment to get mini Negan wrangled into a more presentable state so I said no. I pulled a fresh outfit for Trey from the closet and chest of drawers, and I made silly faces to him as I dressed him. He wasn’t screaming for breakfast so I wondered if Negan and he ate before I woke up. 

“I have snacks in the mini fridge behind the bar.” He offered as I was asking Trey what he’d had for breakfast. I looked over my shoulder to see him walking back toward us. “He was fussy and you were tired, so I gave him some fresh stuff I keep stocked.” I smiled and gave him a wink. “We’ll have breakfast downstairs, with the others, I was serious, Amara, I want OUR people to see you. And Trey,” he sighed and I felt his eyes roll as I buttoned up my little boy’s bibs. “And Eric and Steven.” The last two sounded like he was long suffering and I giggled. “He’s gonna fucking torture me in front of people, isn’t he?” I knew precisely WHO ‘he’ was and I grinned wider. “Fuck.” 

Laura was knocking on the door as I finished getting Trey ready. I shook my head at the efficiency of Negan’s people, or at least Laura, since she was the only one I had contact with really. He was giggling as she grabbed some of his toys and moved to the room where our family room furniture lived. The door shut behind her, and Negan was on me faster than I could blink.

“Finally,” he breathed against my lips and I smiled into his kiss. He was walking me backward toward our bathroom, his hands making quick work of the shirt I’d pilfered from him, the boxers were gone before we crossed over into the other room, and I have to admit, I didn’t slack in getting rid of his sweats. His hands and mouth left me only long enough to adjust the water of the shower, and then, he was back, pulling me with him into the stall the water falling over us as he FINALLY got to put Tab A into Slot B.

“Dada made Mama VERY happy,” I was smiling as he stood behind me while I braided my hair and our eyes were on one another’s in the steamy mirror. He smirked. “Dada doesn’t have the same ring to it as Daddy though, does it?” His lips met my shoulder and I sighed into his touch. 

“Call me whatever the fuck you want to, Amara,” his mouth was tasting the freshly washed skin of my neck, and he smiled against the now bare to everyone bite mark he gave me. “I’m yours, sweetheart, and you’re-” I watched his mouth open and nearly screamed at the thought of him making that fucking bite fresher, but he chuckled and closed his mouth to kiss it gently. “Got you.” Fucker. 

“Get some clothes on before the tour becomes distracting for every-fucking-one,” I muttered and he smiled at me in the mirror.

“You’re in your birthday suit too, Amara, and I’ll fucking kill everyone if they see it, so ditto.” I shook my head and watched as he walked out of the bathroom and back into our main living space. I listened as he whistled while he opened doors and drawers, thinking about how everything changed so damn fast, but how I couldn’t think of better changes if I tried. 

By the time I had my hair braided, a hint of perfume on my bare skin, and I was dry enough to contemplate clothes, he was completely dressed. How the hell did he do that? I was heading toward the closet when he stopped me. “I picked you something out already, princess.” Oh, you did, did you? Turning I sighed. It was the dress from our first time, the same dress I wore when he gave me my engagement ring. Fuck.

“If you don’t want to wear it-” he started, but I walked up to him and pulled his head down for a kiss. 

“I love you, do you hear me?” He nodded and I stared into his eyes. “I told you years ago that I’d let you dress me up anytime, Coach, that hasn’t changed, as long as the end is the same.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I fully plan on taking every stitch of that outfit back off of you,” I smiled at how hot he sounded by the thought of it. “Now get dressed.” The swat on my ass gave me a fucking horrible reminder of what Eric had said in Alexandria and my eyes went wide. “What?” He was staring at me like he was worried he’d done something wrong. “Amara, I’m sorry if that was too-”

“Um, Eric may have something better than the cilantro up his sleeve for you, Negan,” and as I pulled on my clothes I gave him fair warning of just how fucking embarrassing Eric could be planning to be. Shit.


	36. Just Add Batteries...

Negan was forewarned about Eric and the idea of ME spanking him. His eyes had widened and his dimples came out when I told him what Eric had said in Alexandria.

“Oh, princess, do you want to spank me?” If the look on my face matched my feelings on the subject then he got the fucking message loud and clear. “You look appalled by the thought, Amara.” 

“It’s ridiculous, you dick.” I smacked his shoulder, and his grin grew. “Shut up. That doesn’t count and you know it.” I rolled my eyes as I sat on our bed to pull up my boot socks. “The idea that I would want to, much less fucking be able to bend your ass over and lay into it doesn’t fucking appeal to me at all, even if it would make everyone who ever knew either of us laugh like fucking lunatics.” 

Negan’s eyes were on mine and he was biting his tongue as I shook my head. “Is that a ‘no’ on spanking me, sweetheart?” I shot him a look and he chuckled. “Damn, and I was thinking I could call you ‘mommy’” I nearly gagged and it showed, by the way his laughter grew. “The look on your face almost makes whatever Eric plans to do during the tour fade into the background, Amara.” 

Once I was finished dressing we met Laura and Trey in the main room. Trey toddled over to us, and instead of a beeline to me, he wrapped his arms around Negan’s legs. I looked down at my little boy with a cross between happiness that he was adjusting to Negan’s presence so well and the feeling that I was being replaced by the asshole I loved. Damn it. 

Negan reached down and pulled Trey into his arms as naturally as I always did, kissing his forehead and asking him if he’d had fun playing with “auntie Laura”. Trey was nodding and smiling at Negan, listening to him as if he was saying the most interesting thing in the world. I shook my head and thanked Laura, but she shrugged it off. 

“Keeping Trey company is pretty tame compared to some of the things the boss asks me to do,” shaking my head at the thought of what Negan could have asked her to do, I almost missed the smile she gave me. “The tour?” It was to Negan and he must have nodded because she started asking questions that made me think she’d be keeping an eye on all of us as we walked around the property. 

“Ready, Amara?” Negan’s voice brought me away from where I’d drifted while they talked route and logistics of our tour. He handed me Trey while he grabbed Lucille, and we were off.

Once again, Eric showed patience and calm that neither Negan nor I expected. First we ate breakfast in the main area where meals were held. Negan told us that eating with everyone wasn’t going to be routine, since we had our own space to take meals. He helped me with Trey’s food, seeming to take as much pleasure in feeding him as he did with eating his own food. Then we all walked through the Sanctuary, Negan pointing out the points system, which Steven asked about and what it meant for Eric, himself, and Trey and me. Negan told him that we’d talk about it upstairs. 

We learned about the jobs that Negan’s people, OUR people he reminded me, took care of as well as showing us to the infirmary where he asked me if Trey would need a check up. I shook my head as Eric reminded him that he was more than capable of making sure we were up to snuff health wise, but showing interest in the stockpile of medical supplies that Negan and OUR people had created. 

We were outside, Negan pointing out the walker security system he’d installed, all of us listening seemingly attentively when I heard Eric clear his throat. Shit, no, not here and now. We weren’t surrounded, not really, but there were more than enough people working in the yard to make things uncomfortable if my best friend chose to make it so. 

“So Coach,” Eric started and I felt Negan stiffen beside me. “These dead assholes you have guarding the perimeter,” I felt him relax a little, rookie move, Coach. “Are they traitors and enemies, or are they-” I shut my eyes, hoping against hope that he wasn’t going to say something completely fucking embarrassing. “People who managed to touch Amara’s panties that you’ve hoarded while you were separated. In that shrine you call an apartment, I mean?” 

Shaking my head, I hoped against hope that no one heard, but with the way Eric had raised his voice I knew it was a lost cause. “Now that you mention it, Eric,” was that mirth I heard in Negan’s fucking voice. “I plan on adding to the fucking perimeter any fucker who doesn’t LOOK at Amara with the respect owed MY queen, and that shit will get kicked up to a million if anyone THINKS about touching her panties or HER.” Thanks a fucking lot, Eric, you've given him more fucking ideas.

My eyes were closed and my face burned. If Eric had raised his voice, then Negan was fucking bellowing. Damn it. Why was I always the one on the wrong end of this shit? I sighed and opened my eyes to see that we were heading back inside. Thank fucking God, I thought, even as Negan’s lips met my temple. 

“You ok, princess?” I nodded and rolled my eyes. 

Then smirking because of his favorite term of endearment for me, I looked up and bit my lip. “Princess? Thought I was your queen, Negan.” And that did it, his smile grew wide and his free arm was around me, tugging me closer into his side. “I mean, if they-” I nodded my head toward the people still milling around outside behind us. “Have to think of me that way, shouldn’t you?”

“What did you have in mind, Amara?” His voice was quiet, and Steven and Eric were far enough ahead of us that they couldn’t hear him. 

Licking my lips, looking over Trey’s head at him, I smiled and told him that I wanted to know if he was willing to kneel for me. I saw his Adam’s apple bob to prove I’d given him something worth swallowing over.

“Name the time and place, MY queen,” he offered, voice low and dark. “Make it soon.” 

While we’d been on our tour, Negan had given the order to the people in the marketplace that he’d be needing a crib. The flurry of activity that met this demand had made the fight against rolling my eyes almost impossible, but a crib was found and I had to admit that it was impressive. Crib sheets were next, and then with another barked word, it was taken upstairs. 

When we walked into our rooms, there it was, made up and tucked into the corner of the main room. The one with our family room furniture and I smiled knowing that when he said to make it soon, he more than meant it. 

He answered Steven’s questions about the points system, telling him that he and Eric were family, so the points system wasn’t for them. Steven was interested in what kind of jobs that Negan expected them to do and I watched while Negan contemplated the question. 

“Eric has medic training,” a nod from Eric. “You can help in the infirmary,” another nod. “Steven you did building shit, right?” Steven huffed out a laugh at the thought that his degree in architecture could be called ‘building shit’ but agreed. “I want you to look over some plans that I have for the outposts. Rick’s people managed to ambush one, and I want to work to make sure that shit doesn’t happen again.” Steven’s eyes lit up at the idea of the project. “See, points aren’t needed because the two of you are gonna pull your weight.” He smiled and I studied him waiting for my job. 

“Well?” I asked, when nothing seemed to be coming. His eyes met mine and his smile grew into the predatory one I knew very well. “I am NOT just going to sit here and-”

“Be his human sex toy?” Eric offered, making me glare. “Why the fuck not? God, has the apocalypse turned you stupid?” 

I sighed and finally forced my eyes away from Negan’s. “You thirsty fucking-” I took a deep breath. “I’m NOT a sex toy.” 

“You’re right, Amara, you’re not,” Negan agreed, but then ruined it with his follow up. “I don’t have to buy batteries or blow you up to get you ready.”


	37. Princess, Queen, Coach...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter, BUT I had to write it...Fluff and fluff and hint of smut, but mostly just soft gooey fluff.

After lunch in the apartment with Eric and Steven, Trey was ready for a nap in his new crib and Eric and Steven were ready for their own alone time. Negan helped me put Trey down, adding the stuffy that he already figured out was his favorite we watched while our little boy’s eyes drifted closed. I watched him making the little sucking movement with his mouth that he still did, even after being weaned from a bottle to his little sippy cup. My fingers slid through his silky curls even as Negan moved to wrap himself around me from behind.

“I really hope you don’t think you’re going to get lucky after that bit about batteries and air, Negan.” I whispered, my eyes still locked on the rise and fall of our little guy’s chest as he fell deeper into sleep. 

His smile curved against my neck and then his tongue touched the tiny spot where my spine started and I bit my lip. Fuck, cheater. His fingers were at the hem of the dress he’d picked out, the satin tickling my thighs as he slid it higher up my bare legs. “Actually, Amara,” his voice was as quiet as mine, not wanting to wake Trey up from his sleep. “I was thinking about what you demanded downstairs.” Demand? Me? “Let me make amends and worship you all at once, sweetheart.” 

That’s all it took, but to be honest I think we all know that it wasn’t going to take long to get me to change my mind, and I was in his arms with his mouth on mine. He was like a fucking drug, the strongest narcotic they could imagine putting on the fucking planet, and I was the ONLY addict now. Thank fucking God, I thought, as he picked me up and carried me to our room, leaving our door open enough to hear Trey when he woke up. 

And then, as he put me on my feet, Negan did what all of the people in this building seemed to do for him. He knelt before me, and gave me all the attention a queen could ever fucking hope for.

We were naked and tangled up in our bed when I heard Trey’s voice call out. And for once, for the first time actually, it wasn’t ‘Mama’ that he called out. Negan’s eyes met mine and I smiled at how wide and excited he looked. “Did he just?” And then we heard it again, slightly more frantic.

“Dada!” I smiled, feeling my eyes burn as he jumped from the bed and threw on his underwear, practically sprinting from the room so Trey wouldn’t get more upset. I could hear Negan reassuring Trey that he was right there, that he was safe, and then they were in the doorway. 

“See, even Mama is here,” Trey’s arms reached for me and Negan walked to the bed to hand him over. “I can’t believe he already-” I smiled up at him as Trey snuggled into my sheet covered chest. “He said it, he called me-”

“Trey, you’ve managed to do something Mama never could,” I smiled down at his face as he looked up at me waiting. “You made Dada practically speechless.” Negan’s chuckle vibrated the bed as he got in next to us. 

“Don’t believe that for an instant, Boo. Mama makes Dada speechless daily.” I shook my head as we all snuggled into the fluff of our bed, playing patty cake with Trey and laughing as he demanded a story from Negan, but my heart clenched when I heard him start it. “Once upon a time, there was a princess and a coach.”


	38. M&Ms and a Two Year Old, What's the Worst That Could Happen?

We settled into our new routine. Trey and I would get up with Negan, alright, Trey would wake up his two parents and we’d have breakfast together before Negan would have to head off and do whatever the Lord on High of the Sanctuary did. Eric was in heaven in the infirmary, learning more from the doctor than he’d been able at Alexandria. Steven was busy looking over the plans of who knew how many outposts, making notes and talking over upgrades and security issues with Negan.

Me? Well, I became a stay at home mom. I took Trey for walks, with one or another of Negan’s most trusted FEMALE Saviors. He still had no trust in his men, at least not with me. He mentioned repeatedly that once Steven finished all the plans for updating the outposts, he planned on having the leaders of each come to our site to not only learn what and how to fix the security blindspots and weaknesses, but also to meet their leader’s family. It sounded boring as fuck to me, but what did I know?

Parenting, making love every night (and any other moment we could sneak), bathing Trey, putting him to bed, and playing filled our days. We were like any other young couple with a toddler, we were just doing it as the king and queen of a post-apocalyptic survivors’ group. Perfectly normal.

And perfectly dull. Negan and I were more than this, I thought. Even when I was so angry and hurt that he cheated, even when he rushed off to Lucille’s side, there was always that flame of want. And it was sort of there. Kind of. Mostly we were tired, and working hard to make sure that Trey’s life was even keeled, and our life was as normal as we could make it. Except Negan and I weren’t normal. We had never fit into that hole that other couples did.

I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. He was so focused on making sure that I knew how much he loved and worshiped me, carefully and not nearly as territorial as that first bite, and how much he wanted our family to be safe and happy that I didn’t want to say “so, the sex is a little ho-hum, right?”

The night before the people he’d put in charge of the outposts were due to come for the meeting, we were in the tub, no bubbles this time, since we didn’t have a stockpile and we were chatting as we bathed Trey and played with our water baby. Negan was giving me a rundown of the different people I’d be meeting, telling me that he’d have Arat and Laura on stand-by to take Trey out when he got fussy. He wanted the people he saw as worthy to lead in his stead, at least at a distance, to meet both our little boy and me. Seeing us, he thought, would make them understand that Rick and his allies were NOT to be given any quarter at making another pass to attack any part of the domain under his rule.

“Are you planning on picking out my outfit?” I asked, smiling as Trey splashed Negan in the face. Coach was scrunching up his nose, blowing raspberries to get more giggles out of our little guy and I waited for the laughter to calm for him to answer me.

“Of course, sweetheart,” his eyes met mine and I felt that same familiar lurch of lust and want. “Can’t have you going in there without your armor.” I smiled at that, and then Trey hit me with a splash of my own. Sputtering dramatically getting our little boy to giggle louder, I shook my head.

“He’s wired up more now than when we got in the tub,” I sighed. That meant more stories, more play, and possibly a night in our bed instead of the crib. “Air Trey had extra jet fuel it seems.” I noticed that Negan looked a little guilty. “What kind of extra jet fuel did he have?” I studied Coach with the same laser focus he usually hit me with, and I waited.

“I found a little pack in a load that came in today,” my raised eyebrow told him to go on. “It was one of those snack sized packs of M&Ms, Amara, I had NO idea that he’d-”

“Get a sugar high from the rare commodity that is chocolate?” Shaking my head I couldn’t help but laugh. “He’s only two, or almost, Negan, and he’s never really had chocolate.” I could tell he was fighting between trying to look abashed and the elation of giving Trey another first. “You’re incorrigible. And now we’re in for a long night.” As if to prove me right, Trey hit both of us with a splash of water and I rolled my eyes as Negan’s dimples peeked out at me.

We managed sleep, eventually. Not nearly enough for me, coupled with a lack of sex, a rowdy toddler and a tired lover, the day began too early and I STILL had to meet his higher up underlings. Trey was in a bad mood, as a toddler is when he’s had little sleep and a sugar hangover. And so, we were all blurry eyed and out of sorts.

Negan had my outfit laid out, but we were barely awake enough to kiss one another, and I took no fucking happiness in knowing that he had learned his lesson. We ALL learned the lesson and it was a painful one.

“If I could fucking call this off without looking like an idiot, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” he yawned, even as Trey fussed over breakfast. “None of us look like we’re going to be worth a shit today.”

“When are they due?” I asked, chewing a bite of God knew what, because my eyes were so tired everything looked bland and I couldn’t wake up enough to taste it.

“Around lunch,” I blinked at him and he stared back. Why the fuck were we- “Let’s go back to bed, I give up on this-” he tossed his fork down and I yawned loudly. He took Trey from me, since we all were still basically in night clothes, we usually showered after breakfast. Rocking Trey into a more comfortable state, he started humming the made up lullaby he’d heard me singing to him more than once, and I watched, fighting my own urge to close my eyes as Trey gave in to the rocking and the relaxing hum. Negan had learned to keep up whatever had started our little one into sleepy land, knowing that if he was too quick to lay him down, his eyes would pop open and he’d have to start over. Finally, he was tucking Trey into his crib and he turned to see me almost face plant into my plate. “Come on, princess, let’s go to bed.”

I woke up to whistling and giggles. Blinking against the light of the sun shining through our curtains, I stretched, feeling much more rested than I had- I sat up so quick I made my own head spin and I heard Negan’s chuckle join Trey’s giggling. “You look confused, Amara.” Looking around, through the curtain of the tangled mass that was my hair, I found them playing at the coffee table again. “Don’t worry we still have about an hour before they fucking get here.” I nearly fell back on the pillows, but my fingers met my hair and I sighed. It would take that long to untangle the mess.

Fighting the tangle of blankets on our bed, I rolled onto my feet and headed straight for the bathroom. Negan was calling to me, but if he wanted me to be presentable for his people, then he would just have to suck it up. I was in the shower, using an ample helping of my conditioner, trying working some of the knots out before I dared to take a comb or brush to it, when I heard him and Trey on the other side of the shower door.

“Damn it, Negan, give me a second,” I growled, working my fingers through my hair as best as I could. “This is a fucking disaster.” And then the door opened, and my two guys, naked as the day they were both born joined me.

“Mama is freaking out, buddy,” he whispered conspiratorially to Trey. I rolled my eyes and managed to get the conditioner in my eyes stinging and burning and making me want to scream. “And now she needs Dada’s help.” I couldn’t see them, but I heard Negan telling Trey to stand close, but to move if the water was too much, and then his long fingers joined mine in my hair. “Let me help,” I sighed, letting his fingers work through the knots easier than I seemed capable. “That’s right, Boo Bear, Mama is 'k' now, isn’t she?” I smiled despite the stinging in my eyes. “Dada is gonna get her hair fixed,” his fingers caught in a huge knot and I grimaced. “Or not.”

“It’s fine,” I whispered, fighting against the scream that built up from the tugging and pulling, which was my own damn fault for failing to braid the shit before bed. I smiled as I felt Trey’s little hands and then arms wrapping around my legs. “Hey, Boo Bear,” I could just reach the top of his head, and I let my fingers run through his wet curls. “Do you feel better?”

“We all feel better,” Negan offered, as Trey leaned into my leg. “Dada has learned that introducing our little bear to new foods is something he should probably run past Mama.” I smiled, feeling his fingers sliding more easily through my hair. “And Mama has learned that keeping her hair contained during whatever tiny shred of sleep she gets is probably a good idea.” My grin grew as his lips touched mine. “How’s your eyes?”

I leaned back into the shower spray, rinsing out the conditioner in my hair and hopefully my eyes, and then stood up, letting it run down my body as I blinked open my eyes, testing to see if I still felt the stinging. Smiling up at Negan, I realized without looking down that his eyes had gone completely dark, and he looked far hungrier than either of us had during our aborted breakfast.

“We don’t have time,” I whispered, my hand reaching out to check on Trey, still locked around my leg. “And we have a tiny audience.” He groaned and Trey mimicked him, making my smile wider.

“I should have fucking canceled,” he was muttering, as his finger slid along my collarbone, making me feel chills that had nothing to do with the water still pouring over me. “Soon.” He whispered, eyes locked on my lips and I knew this time it was a promise.


	39. Negan and Amara Sitting In a...Screw That...Or Screw-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I LOVE the sappy fluff that Amara and Negan have been experiencing, I do, BUT Negan and Amara are far more than just sap and fluff...That's why--
> 
> Well enjoy this chapter, because I sure as fuck enjoyed writing it ;)

We managed to all get ready for the meeting that all of us, including Trey who was having too much fun with Mama and Dada to be bothered, no doubt wished was cancelled. I dressed after brushing every tiny last missed knot and tangle from my hair and then braiding it over my shoulder, just like it had been the first time Coach took me on his desk. Negan had taken Trey to our room, dressing him like he’d been doing forever, then dressing himself just as quickly. They were playing by the time I came out to dress myself in the outfit he’d picked out for me. 

This time it was the outfit he’d chosen when we packed up my bedroom at my parents house, and I watched him from the corner of my eye as he had his back turned and smirked. “Soon” he’d promised me, but I was wondering if I could make “soon” happen sooner than he planned? I hid the panties that he’d chosen under our blanket, and had my skirt on before he turned back to see how far dressed I was, then smiled as he watched me pull on my bra and the graphic tank that he’d been so sure I would wear the fitted leather jacket with during one of our family dinners with my parents. 

I did wear it this time. I wanted no distractions for his people, in and out, that’s how I wanted this meeting to go. For them, I mean. For Negan and I? Well, I was hoping for a reminder of how we first came together. The conference room table wasn’t the desk from his office in my old high school, but I thought it would be a suitable replacement. 

“Ready?” He’d snuck up on me as I was plotting, his arms winding around me, his lips touching the back of my neck. “Kind of want to give you another mark, just to be sure-” I smacked his hand, and felt the lips I loved curl into a smile on my skin. “Violence? Oh, princess, watch it, or daddy might have to-” 

I felt that clench in my stomach even before he got to the word that I could feel in my toes. “Punish me?” I breathed, and felt a tiny nip on the side of my neck, not enough to leave proof, but enough to make my breath catch. A tiny flare of triumph at the way he gave a low, quiet growl made my eyes close. Shit. 

I felt empty when he pulled away, but I knew, with what I had planned for the little meeting we were heading toward, that it would be short lived. Because now I knew for a fact that MY Negan was raring to come out, and that gave me a hell of a lot more swing in my hips as we walked together down to the room where his Saviors waited. Where I planned on reminding him just who we really were.

There were only a few waiting when the three of us arrived. A man with a mustache that looked like a throwback to the 70s, a man who bore a striking resemblance to a weasel, and a woman who sized me up as I walked in beside Negan holding Trey. Mr. Mustache was the Simon that Laura had mentioned, the Weasel was Gavin, and the woman Regina. Negan pulled out a chair for me, sitting it beside his at the head of the table and holding it as I sat with our little boy. He took the seat with his usual swagger, resting Lucille on the battered surface of the table. His eyes met mine, even as Simon tried to get his attention with ideas on retaliation tactics for my former community. 

Negan barely glances up at him, but I can see that this only makes Simon persist. “Are you fucking blind?” Negan says, loud enough for the other man to hear, but not loud enough to startle Trey. “I’m making time with my family, asshole, so until the others arrive, put a fucking pin in it.” Simon’s glaring at the back of his head, but Negan’s hand is clucking Trey under the chin and could clearly give a rat’s ass how Simon feels about the slight. 

Eventually the others do come into the room, and once everyone is seated, Laura close by and Arat no doubt outside the door waiting, Negan begins by telling them about the plans that Steven is working on. Of course there is dissent, after all, Steven is a former Alexandrian, so his loyalty is suspect, but Negan shuts down the fucking muttering by announcing that Steven AND his husband Eric are family, and if anyone has anything more to say about it, please fucking open their mouths one more fucking time. Silence falls.

“Better.” He nods, looking around the table. “Now, the other reason you’re all here, is to meet Amara and Trey.” I can actually feel all eyes on me, including his. “Sweetheart?” I look up at him and smile. “Amara Kendall was going to be my wife before this shit started, and by the fucking grace of the universe she’s back.” I could feel the curiosity rising, about the former concubines no doubt, and Trey’s parentage definitely. “Our son,” his smile softened as his eyes fell to our quiet little guy who was staring up at his Dada with wide eyes, “Trey is a blessing I didn’t expect.” I bit my lip around my smile. “My FAMILY no matter where the fuck they found safety to survive, do you understand me?” 

I could see understanding dawning on faces, even if a few, Simon among them, looked like they’d rather swallow acid to agree to it. But they did, and then before the meeting could go on, Laura came over and held out her hands to Trey. He giggled and opened his arms to her. “Don’t worry, Mama, I’ll keep him occupied while you finish up down here,” was I imagining the knowing look in her eyes? Kissing Trey, which Negan also did in full view of the room, he waved bye to us as Laura took him out and Arat replaced her in the room. 

“Now, start talking about whatever bullshit you think I should know.” He gave the floor over to the group around the table and to no one’s surprise Simon took the lead. 

Once Simon hit his stride, I leaned closer to Negan as though I was asking him for clarification, but instead whispered, “I’m not wearing any panties, Coach.” I saw his fist clench on the top of the table and grinned. Point to me. I bit my lip and sat back to “listen” to the conversation/debate going on in front of us. When he’d held my chair, he’d also pushed me in far enough so my legs were under the table and out of view. As I took in Simon’s rant or plan, watching the Weasel/Gavin offer up his own take, I noticed Negan’s hand closest to me leave the top of the table. Point two, I thought, a smirk forming. His fingers on my bare knee scored me another point, and now the game was getting far more interesting. I considered a name for the game as his fingers began their slow climb up my thigh. Maybe ‘How Long Until Negan Kicks Everyone Out and Fucks Me Senseless’, I thought, as his fingertip tickled my upper thigh, daring me to uncross my legs and let him take a stroll. 

It took longer than I’d given him credit, I have to admit, even when I did uncross my legs. Even after his fingers slid down and between the newly created V. He held strong when he found proof that I hadn’t been teasing about my lack of panties. But I knew I had him when he slipped lower and felt just how fucking ready I was for him. 

“That’s great,” Negan cut off whoever had taken up the sharing stick. “Let’s delve into that more soon.” He looked around the table and I felt his finger slide further into my dampness. “Right now,” he bit his lip as he felt me clench around his probing digit. “I have other shit to take care of.” Shit? Oh, I think you can think of a better- and then he curled his finger and I lost track of what he was saying, missing the looks that he got as he basically threw them all out of the conference room because he managed to hit that fucking spot with ONE finger and I’d gone completely deaf from need. Arat followed them out, locking the door behind her with a smirk of her own. “Princess?” I arched up into his hand and he smiled. “Should I punish you or-”

I turned and yanked his face to mine shutting him up with my lips and tongue. Not fucking NOW, I thought. “Negan?” I pulled back, and my voice was husky and low. “Shut up and fuck me.” 

“Demanding aren’t you?” But he bit back into my mouth, and his finger left me and then I was on top of the table in front of him. “Fuck you?” I nodded as he flipped up my skirt and bared me to his eyes. “Scoot back.” I did, feeling the rough gouges in the table scrape against my skin. “That’s far enough,” I was completely on top of it now, and I grinned as he flicked open his belt and undid his jeans. “Let’s see how fucking sturdy this table is, Amara.” And then he was on top of it with me, hovering over me as I arched up to find his bare skin. “Feeling kind of needy aren’t you?” I decided to test the table myself, hooking me leg around him and rolling so he was on the bottom. Thank God we were both thin enough to not fall off the width with that maneuver, I thought as I slid myself onto his hardness. “I think we’ve been here before, princess.” I remembered the first and one of the ONLY times I tried to be on top, but he was in for a surprise. Rolling my hips, I still made that same noise, but I wanted it. All of it, the feel of him at this angle, the control. “Shit,” I smiled as his eyes rolled back. “Do that again.” And I did, and this time his hands were on my hips and he let me have full reign. 

From the rolling to an absolute ride, we made the most of the sturdier than it looked table. Eventually he rolled me back over, Negan was nothing if not a control freak, but I didn’t fucking care, because this WAS us. The wildness. The recklessness that showed that WE were what mattered, not what happened outside the door. That even with a little person to take care of we still had US. He did mark me. My hips were bruised from his fingers and hands, my neck wore another very deep bite, and I was so fucking happy to have US back that I could fucking care less. 

We laid on the table afterward, never having gotten completely naked (again) and he had me draped over his body. I felt his chuckle vibrate through me and the scarred wood we were lying on. “You could have just fucking told me you were bored, Amara.” I raised my head and propped my chin on his chest so I could see his face. “Was it with the meeting, princess, or-”

I bit my lip to hold back my own laugh. “It’s been growing, Negan.” His thumb traced my lips and I kissed the pad. “THIS is us.” His smile made mine grow. “We’re not the ‘let’s try to have quiet sex while the baby sleeps’ people.” He rolled his eyes. “We’re the ‘let’s make sure the neighbors have issues making eye contact after last night’ people.” 

“God, remember when Eric tossed the fucking ear plugs at you?” I grinned at the reminder. “Fuck, Amara, you’re right.” I tried not to look like a fucking know-it-all when he admitted it. “We always could make the fucking world disappear, couldn’t we?” 

“We still do, or can.” I raised up enough so I was face to face with him. “I love you, Negan, and I love US.” Kissing him gently, I pulled back. “Stop wearing kid gloves with me, OK?” 

“Can I wear my leather ones?” I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “I mean, leather on that skin of yours, fuck, princess, daddy’s getting ideas.” 

My stomach growled and I laughed at the interruption. “As a wise leader once said, put a fucking pin in it,” his dimples were full blown. “Let’s go eat and check on our little bear, Dada.” He swatted my bare ass as I climbed off the table. “And I fully expect that punishment later, Daddy,” I winked, fixing my skirt so it covered me.


	40. Cows, Milk, and Story Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully *fingers crossed*, this chapter is a nice mix between sappiness and smut...That's the goal, people.

Negan and I came to a very good understanding after our ride in the conference room. And after he spanked me to a burning red tint. And after he made sure that the dripping wetness that him spanking me caused was thoroughly taken care of. We understood that while we adored Trey, and our routines with him, even new-ish parents deserved alone time. Overnight, evening, date time, alone time.

Eric was smug, the fucker. “‘I’m not a sex toy,’” he mocked me, taking the bag I’d packed for Trey’s first overnight stay after Negan and I agreed to the new terms of our relationship. “Sure, Mara, and I’m also sure that Coach’s big, hard-” Trey poked him in the cheek and he stopped talking. “Hey, Boo, ready for fun times at Uncle Eric’s?” I smirked at the quick turn in conversation. “Let’s get away from these straight squares and go to the-”

“Flaming fun house?” I offered, grinning at my best friend. “Get out, but first,” I kissed Trey with a loud smacking smooch. “Dada and Mama are right here, baby, so just-”

“Mara, stop it.” Eric was rolling his eyes. “Trey will be FINE. He LOVES time with Steven and me, you know that.” He turned away, tossing a warning of his own over his shoulder. “Just give a shout if Coach needs some ‘flaming fun house’ times, K?” 

“Thirsty whore,” I muttered, closing the door behind him. Negan was downstairs, finishing up a meeting with Steven and a few of the outpost leaders. He’d be back soon, he promised, and he NEVER broke a promise now. Not after being forced to by Carl’s sudden appearance when we first arrived. 

I tidied up the entry room, tucking Trey’s toys into his crib, smiling because Negan had found a travel crib for Eric’s rooms, one on wheels in case Laura had to take him overnight. Picking up the books that I’d read him during the morning, stacking the plates from lunch, and putting them outside our door, I took a look around and felt that the room looked decent. I moved into our main living area and repeated the process, taking the time to remake the bed, fluff the pillows, and pick up any dirty laundry that had been missed. I was fixing a t-shirt that was hanging out after Negan wasn’t as careful as he usually was during dressing when I came across the small black velvet box. 

Biting my lip, I thought about NOT opening it, but curiosity won out. Flipping open the box, I shook my head. It was clearly the wedding band that he’d chosen for me. Dainty like my pair of rings still secure on my finger after all these years, it was dotted with tiny round diamonds, almost like Morse code. My finger touched the band gently, wondering if the world hadn’t gone to shit if we would have been able to get past- I sighed.

“It means ‘Forever,’” Negan offered, leaning against the doorframe and studying me. “I- I wanted it to be on your finger forever, so it seemed appropriate.” I bit my lip and waited for him to come closer. He walked slowly, leaving Lucille leaning by the door. “It should have been right here,” he took my left hand in his and touched my ring finger where the other two sat, "a long fucking time ago."

“Then put it there,” I held out the box to him, but he shook his head and my heart clenched painfully at the rejection. 

“Oh, princess, I AM going to put it there,” he wrapped his arms around me after releasing my hand. “But I plan on doing it in FULL view of every-fucking-one.” It was my turn to shake my head, but my face was cradled against his chest so my movement was stifled. “And I hope you’ll wear the dress you picked out.” That made me pull back a little and look up at him. 

“Did you peek?” I watched his face, feeling like I would be able to tell if he lied about this. He shook his head and I felt a rush of surprise. “Really?” 

“When they brought everything back,” I’d known, because he’d finally told me what it had taken to empty our house and bring it all to the Sanctuary, that he’d sent minions to get EVERYTHING. “Since the bag isn’t fucking see through and the label is from a wedding gown store, exactly what it was, but I hoped, Amara-”

“That you’d find me?” He nodded and swallowed hard. “You did, didn’t you?” I smiled up at him and I finally got the kiss I’d been waiting for. “Stop trying to redeem yourself, Negan, I love your ass and the rest of you.” He chuckled against my lips. “So you haven’t a clue what it looks like?” Another negative. I bit my lip. “When?” 

“When-” he raised an eyebrow. 

“When can we do it in front of ‘every-fucking-one’, Negan? I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you?” His eyes seemed to light up. “I’m serious, I want my damn ring.” That got a laugh and then he finally took the box from me, but he snapped it shut and tucked it back in the drawer where I found it.

“I think-” he scooped me into his arms and I grinned into his neck. “That FIRST I want to make sure I should buy the cow-” I slapped his shoulder playfully. “I mean, I already have the free milk, right?” Another smack and he tossed my ass onto our bed. “Now, princess, you were being nosy in Daddy’s drawers, what do you think I should do about that?” 

I licked my lips and watched as his eyes went from playful to predatory. “I don’t know, Daddy, what do you think?” 

Lying together on our bed, my head on his chest, my ass burning I was smiling. “You look pretty fucking pleased for a woman who just got her ass turned ruby red by my hand, princess.” I bit my lip, thinking about his face when he FINALLY sees me in the dress he swore he hadn’t peeked at. 

“I’m wondering-” hiding my face in his bare chest, my smile grew. 

“What?” His voice was heavy with curiosity. I considered what I wanted to ask, something I hadn’t asked in the years before the world went fucking tits over ass. 

“Why did you pick me?” Not looking up at him, just letting my fingertips tease the spattering of chest hair that I loved. “I mean, when I was still a school girl and you were-”

“Your asshole gym teacher?” I smiled, kissing his skin and waiting for him to continue. His fingers slid down my bare arm, touching as gently as if I were made of spun glass. “I don’t know, I won’t lie and say I never LOOKED while I was teaching. I’m not dead.” His fingers slid back up to the back of my neck and tugged so I knew he wanted me to meet his eyes. “Then you walked in, looking like you’d like to smack the living shit out of me, eighteen years old and ready to take on the world. You said, ‘yes, sir’ and I felt something deep down inside of me unlock, and then it was temptation after temptation with you.” I smirked up at him. “I can still see your skimpy as fuck gym clothes, Amara, and I thought I’d burst into fucking flames every damn day you jogged and stretched in that fucking gym in front of me.” Biting my lip, I listened as he told me a better story than he could tell Trey. “I couldn’t fucking find it in me to even TRY to keep my distance. Hearing that you had ALL those fucking offers for Homecoming, then having you actually say yes to that moron Joe, I wasn’t lying when I said I was in knots. I knew that I should tell you to go off with a guy your own age, but fuck, princess, I knew we were meant to be. Didn’t you?”

I let what he said digest for a couple beats, feeling more loved by the man I was wrapped up in than I ever thought possible. “I think I probably knew when you spanked me the first time,” his smile made his dimples peek out from the scruff he’d regrown at my insistence. “I wouldn’t have let ANYONE do that to me, but I never once questioned YOU doing it.” I pulled myself up his body, my lips meeting his and then pressing my forehead against his. “You have opened my world wide open, Coach, and I think I’d rather die than be separated again.” 

“Same, Amara, same.” And then he rolled me onto my back, and he let the rough scruff of his face drag down my body, burning until he settled between my legs. “I’m hungry.” His lips met my other lips and I felt like the world was tilting as I arched into his mouth, thinking our date nights were head and shoulders over any fucking other date nights that have ever been had.


	41. Tiny Terror's Terrible Twos and Human Sex Toy Gets Promoted

Negan kept me out of the loop, Alexandria and our former community newswise. I was fine with it, but I knew that there would be upheaval, that seemed to be the way of the world now. Even when the world first went to shit fast and furious, I wasn’t much of a fighter. Had I killed the walking, growling former dead/currently brain dead? Of course, we all did, at least once. But when we’d found Alexandria, even when Rick Grimes and his people came stumbling in, my focus wasn’t on fighting. 

While Negan, Eric, Steven and the rest of the world kept going on about the business of keeping us all alive and well, my focus was on getting Trey to say more words. “Dada” and “Mama” were clearly favorites, but “Unca” and “Aunie” were gaining steam. “No” was also one he got out perfectly, which was great, as long as it wasn’t in response to the foods we wanted him to eat, or bedtime, or bathtime. Yes, Trey was hitting the terrible twos with a fucking vengence.

I had a homemade calendar, something I found necessary with a tiny person to keep track of his firsts, and his other milestones. And I was counting down the days until his second birthday finally arrived. Negan, after coming in and picking up our very irritable toddler, trying to calm him down noticed the calender and saw that the date was fast approaching.

“Does our Boo Bear have a birthday coming up, princess?” He asked, having finally calmed down the fifth tantrum Trey had that day. I nodded, feeling like my head might stop pounding now. “What should we do to mark the big occasion?” I raised an eyebrow. Having dealt with our little guy’s increasingly loud screaming all day, I didn’t have extra brain cells to rub together to think of anything.

I finally shrugged and started picking up the toys that had lost a battle with our tiny terror. I was tired, and my head was still hurting, but with him back with us, he could take some of the heat off me. “No idea of what to do, Negan.” I yawned, Trey hadn’t taken a nap and for once I felt like I needed one. 

“I’ll talk to the kitchen staff, maybe they can figure out how to make him a little cake,” Trey’s finger was trying to find Negan’s dimple under the scruff. “What about gifts? He loves trains, right?” I nodded, tossing myself onto the sofa beside the two of them, I let myself get as comfortable as possible. 

I knew why I was balking, deep down inside, why I was at war with myself about celebrating his birthday, but Negan was looking at me like I was a loss at Trey’s ‘important’ milestone. I sighed. “Mary died getting him a gift for his first birthday,” it came out as a breath, but I knew he heard me. Negan’s hand touched mine and I automatically linked our fingers. Trey was leaning his head on his daddy’s chest, and Negan’s free hand was sliding through the dark curls on his tiny head, mesmerizing him and getting the tiny terror’s eyes to start to droop. “If he takes a nap now-” but I stopped. If he takes a nap now, then so could mommy. “I want to celebrate his birthday, I do, but it’s-”

“A good day coupled with bad shit.” He nodded at me, brushing a kiss on Trey’s head as he heard the little snuffling noise that signaled sleep approaching. “Then we remember the GOOD shit, Amara. That’s all.” I curled closer to him, wrapping myself almost around his free side, letting my free hand reach out to touch his on Trey’s head. “He’s a miracle, sweetheart, OUR miracle. So he has to have a birthday party, even if it doesn’t fucking look like a normal party from-”

I smiled and shook my head. “When would I find time to plan this party, Negan?” I found myself yawning. “Sorry, he’s just been-”

“Throwing tantrums constantly?” Unlinking our fingers, he wrapped his arm around me and held both me and our little guy. “Maybe he needs time around people his own size and age.” I snuggled into his chest, watching Trey’s innocent face in sleep. “The people I have teaching the kids here,” he stopped and kissed my forehead. “Would you like to teach the kids here? The others didn’t really have the training, and a few want to go to other outposts.” 

“Is this a promotion from human sex toy or-” I grinned up at him as his quiet chuckle vibrated the sofa. “Let’s put our little guy in his crib, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you convince me.” 

I took up teaching as easily as I had in Alexandria. Making a list of anything else that I could think of that the runners might find to help the kids grow and learn, I warned Negan that it wasn’t a huge deal if his people couldn’t find some or any of it. 

Trey was shy around the other kids at first. He hadn’t really interacted with the kids in Alexandria much, being that he was so little. It took about a week, but one day I realized that he hadn’t thrown a single tantrum to get my attention and found him playing with a couple toddlers on one of the blankets I’d put down for the littler kids to sit on while they listened to the older kids learning. 

School only took a few hours a day, but Negan had been right. Trey was getting more independent and less screaming and demanding. I still hadn’t found time to think up a plan for his fast approaching birthday, and I bemoaned my lack of planning to Negan over dinner one night.

“Amara, I’ve got it fucking taken care of.” I raised an eyebrow as he was showing Trey the magic of a fork and spoon, since it was time he fed himself. His eyes met mine and his grin grew. “Trust me, princess, Trey is gonna have a fucking wonderful birthday.”

Trey’s birthday came four days later. Waking up to an empty bed, and an empty bedroom, I followed the sounds of giggling to the bathroom. Negan had filled the bathtub just enough so Trey could have a blast playing and splashing, without him having to join him. I leaned against the counter and watched as our two year old was smiling and bouncing in the tub that would work as a paddle pool for him. 

“Did we wake you, Mama?” Negan asked, making growling noises at Trey as the little guy mimicked him. I laughed at my two bears. “Boo, did we wake up Mama?” Trey’s giggles rang through the bathroom and I smiled down at him. 

“Mama, Mama, Mama,” Trey chanted, splashing the water and giving me a grin. 

“Trey, Trey, Trey,” I offered, kneeling beside Negan and poking Trey’s tiny nose making another round of giggles come bubbling up. “Looks like our birthday boy is happy, Dada.” 

Negan’s arm wrapped around me and pulled me onto his lap. “He is, and so is Dada.” Kissing me for a beat, we came out of it sputtering. Trey had figured out how to make a wave with his body and forced a huge splash to smack us apart. I laughed as Negan shot our little one a look. “Boo? Really?” Which got more giggles from both of us.

I dressed Trey after we managed to talk him out of his ‘pool’. Once he was presentable, I set him on his feet and watched as he ran to the outer room looking for his daddy. I chuckled when I heard Negan’s groan signifying that a tiny rocket had just launched himself onto his lap, and started getting ready for the day myself.

Once I had my hair up, dress in place, and shoes on my feet, I walked into the main room and my eyes nearly fell out of my head. Somehow Negan had managed to decorate it with colorful streamers and balloons. A banner that looked like Eric’s handiwork was on one wall announcing Trey’s birthday. And on the sofa sat Negan and our little boy, looking like the two happiest males I’d ever seen.

“How did you-” I gestured around, eyes noticing a pile of brightly wrapped presents on the bar out of reach of our tiny birthday boy, and on the coffee table were small plates and forks. 

Negan’s smile grew when he saw how impressed I was. “It was easier than I thought, Amara. Half the shit was in the abandoned town nearby, fuck no one thought to loot a fucking party store during this mess.” I shook my head and sat down in the chair nearby. “The cake isn’t huge, but it’s pretty decent, and Eric and Steven helped me pick gifts, and of course they got little Boo shit and so did-”

“Laura?” I smiled. “Will you ever NOT amaze me?” 

“I fucking hope not.” He answered, as a knock came to the door.  
Trey’s second birthday was everything that Mary had hoped his first one would have been. I hoped, so much that it bordered on becoming a prayer, that she could see it and that she was content that we were raising him as she wanted. 

Watching him opening presents, after Negan showed him how to rip the paper to shreds, seeing him take that first sweet bite of cake after blowing out the candles, which uncle Eric helped with since he swore that us straight assholes knew nothing about blowing was completely amazing. He had fun with his new train toys, the books that Negan and Laura managed to find that he didn’t already have in his small collection, and the popping of the balloons was something he nearly laughed himself silly from. 

Tuckered out, too tired for his evening bath, we tucked him into his crib with a new stuffy that Steven had found in the marketplace. I watched as he sighed contentedly in his sleep, his tiny fist wrapped out the arm of his bear and couldn’t help but feel sad. He was growing up, and if I thought the terrible twos were bad, I could only fucking imagine his teenage years. 

“Are you crying, princess?” Negan’s voice was quiet, watching over my shoulder, his arms around me as usual. 

“It’s silly,” I turned, burying my face in his chest. His fingers were sliding up and down my back, trying to soothe me. “He’s growing up, he won’t be my little-”

Negan’s arms tightened around me. “Oh, Amara,” he sighed into my hair. “Sweetheart, he’s not too grown yet, don’t rush it and get yourself upset.” 

“I told you it was silly,” I muttered, feeling him chuckle. “I know it’s stupid, but it feels like I just watched him being born and now-”

Negan moved me from the crib, taking me into our bedroom and pulled me onto his lap on the bed. “It’s not silly, it’s just not worth fucking worrying about yet, princess.” He buried his face in my neck. “We still have the threes, fours, fives…” I shook my head at his goofiness. “Let’s enjoy him being little, and not fucking borrow trouble, ok?” 

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “You did really fucking amazingly at party planning, Negan. Are you going to be our wedding planner too?” 

“Absolutely,” I looked up to see him grinning down at me. “Anything to get to the fucking honeymoon.” 

I shook my head as my laughter replaced my moment of sadness and he took my breath away with a long smouldering kiss that had me wishing for our honeymoon, but then, as our clothing fell away, I realized that I had a honeymoon almost every fucking night with Negan.


	42. Which Is More Important...Wedding OR Honeymoon?

Trey was adjusting well to hanging out with the littles at the Sanctuary school and I was enjoying interacting with not just the children of our little community, but their parents as well. I was happy to see that no one was treating me differently than I had been in Alexandria. Even as Negan’s future only wife, all of the people within our gates treated me like the person who taught their children, and who made Negan more agreeable. At least that’s what one older woman whispered to me, a soft smile on her lips. I was happy to know that people didn’t see me as an interloper.

Negan spent his days putting out whatever fires that Rick and his people continued to cause, and I knew they were causing trouble because I heard about the woman who breached our security, but didn’t hear her name. He’d brought Eugene back after his last visit to Alexandria, after he’d shown me the bullet ‘wound’ that Lucille had been afflicted with, a bullet that Eugene had made. And I also knew that Daryl had gotten free, and that caused more upheaval simply because Negan hated looking weak or inept.

These things I learned through whispers that ran like waves through the people that didn’t realize I was kept free from upsetting information. It didn’t upset me, not in the sense that I thought Negan couldn’t handle it. I was more confused about why they all couldn’t sit down like fucking adults and hammer out a reasonable deal that everyone could be comfortable with, but I didn’t think it was my fucking place to offer my opinion. It wasn’t that I was a shrinking violet or a fully 50s housewife, but since I wasn’t a fucking soldier or fighter, why should I put my nose in it?

About a month after Trey’s second birthday, I was sitting on the couch reading him one of his new books when Negan came in whistling. I grinned down at our little Boo who had his lips puckered in what he thought was the same way Dada had his and was blowing more spit than a tune. I shook my head as Negan kissed my temple and tried to give our toddler pointers on how to whistle like his daddy.

“I think he’s a little too young to figure out the mechanics, Dada.” Negan sat down next to us and pulled both of us onto his lap. Breathing in the scent of my hair, and then kissing Trey’s curls his arms locked around both of us. “How was your day?”

“Long,” he sighed, tapping the book I still held. “You haven't finished the story, Mama.”

I reopened the book and read, smiling as Trey became engrossed and Negan’s hand was taking a field trip down my bare arm. When I finished, Trey clapped, something he’d learned during story time in class and Negan chuckled and put his own hands together.

“Boo Bear, why don’t you hop down and start building us something to play monster with?” Trey slid off my lap, with my assistance and pulled his toy basket out from under the table. Once he was occupied, Negan’s lips met my neck. Moaning at the taste of my skin, he nipped with his teeth and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from making a noise that would cause Trey’s focus to lock onto us. “Are you still prepared to fucking marry me, princess?” I nodded and was rewarded with a harder bite. “Words, Amara.”

“Yes, Sir.” Another bite. “Daddy?” His tongue flicked against the slightly tortured skin. “When?”

“How does three days from now sound?” I pulled away and locked eyes with him. “Is that too soon?”

Kissing the breath out of him, I was shaking my head when I pulled back again. “You STILL don’t know how to read the fucking room, Coach.”

Eric, because of course it would be Eric, was in my room the day before my ‘wedding’ to Negan. In the madness that happened when Negan and I were separated, I hadn’t actually shown him or Mary the dress. And Negan, being an alpha male who cared nothing about clothing or the heft of a dress bag, didn’t realize that it wasn’t holding JUST my dress.

Negan had taken Trey along for a meeting with his higher up Saviors, Steven was with them giving more ideas for increased security measures for the outposts, and that meant that Eric was about to see just what was in my wedding gown bag.

I pulled it out of the closet, hanging it from one of the twisted limb posts of our bed, and carefully unzipped it. I heard Eric’s gasp and thought about how he hadn’t seen anything yet. I removed the shoe box that was tucked into the bottom part of the bag and set it on the bed. Then I took out the first part, my lingerie, the ONLY type I could wear with the cut of the dress. The dress came out next and if he thought the first layer inside the bag was gasp worthy, I was rewarded with a whispered “holy shit”. Hanging the dress on the opposite limb post, there was still one thing left. The honeymoon set.

“Are you trying to give Coach a fucking heart attack?” He sighed, staring at the lace and ribbons that made up the present that Negan was going to get to open on our wedding night. “Fuck, Amara, it’s gorgeous.”

I sighed. “Yes it is, now let’s fucking pray it still fits. All of it.”

Eric helped me into the dress once I had the undergarments in place. “This dress is a fucking work of art.” I knew it. The cut was far more old Hollywood glamour. Satin, lace, and silver accents, it fell down my length and was more draping than a stereotypical princess ball gown. The shoes, heels with the same silver accented pattern along the back and heel, caused Eric to give up a low whistle when I pulled them on. “He’s gonna want to fuck you while you wear those stilletos.”

“No, he won’t.” He raised an eyebrow and I laughed. “Trust me, Negan learned just how fucking much stilletos can hurt if I wrap my legs around him.”

“You impaled Coach with a fucking high heel?” I grinned, remembering how he’d powered through, but swore that he’d never be fucking tempted to repeat the exercise, and how he’d turned and begged me to tell him he wasn’t fucking bleeding or scarred for life.

“Well?” I asked, standing up from where I’d sat on the bed to put on the shoes. I bit my lip, knowing without a fucking doubt that I could count on Eric to tell me the truth.

“You look fucking amazing, Amara. Shit, I kind of wish I didn’t love dick so much.” Rolling my eyes, my hands went to the long braid I kept my hair in. “You should wear it up,” I waited, wanting to hear the reason. “The low cut of the back of that dress needs to be bare, Coach is gonna want to rush through the fucking vows, kick everyone out of the way, and screw you senseless if you keep it bare.”

“Pretty sure I’d want to screw her senseless no matter fucking what,” Negan’s voice called from the other side of the closed bedroom door. “I'm guessing it’s not safe for me to come in?”

I was about to let him, but Eric glared at me. “No, it’s not fucking safe. Haven’t you two assholes tempted fate enough?” Another eye roll from me and he snickered. “Shut up, whore, you know I’m right.”

“Let me know when you’re ‘decent’,” Negan called out, and I chuckled when I heard Trey mimic him by yelling ‘decen’ over and over.

For those of you who like that sort of thing, here's the dress I'm basing the description of Amara's dress from:

And the honeymoon?


	43. One of These Days, Negan Had to Stop Amazing Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EEK...It's time.

What does a wedding look like at the Sanctuary? Well first of all, let me tell you that Eric was a fucking tyrant about wedding traditions. That whole ‘the bride and groom have to sleep apart the night before’ thing? He fucking enforced it. Rolling his eyes at Negan’s insistence that he had no fucking fears that we’d be FINE sleeping in the same fucking bed, he grabbed my future husband a clutch of clothes and pushed him toward the door of our rooms. 

“Out.” My very haughty, very flaming best friend ordered, and I saw Negan’s eyes widen. Ut oh. “Don’t you give me that Lord on Fucking High look, Coach.” The eyes closed to slits and I felt a tiny twist of fear for Eric’s safety, but he just rolled his eyes and sighed. “Do you REALLY want to chance tomorrow not fucking going according to plan, just because you two can’t keep your genitals apart for a few fucking hours?” Negan’s mouth opened and I knew he was about to argue. “Steven has the apartment set up for a ‘stag night’ or whatever it’s called, alcohol, snacks, NO stripping exes,” this was offered to appease me, I’m sure. “In fact,” he called Trey over and picked him up. “You’re keeping mini tyrant,” he handed our son to Negan and it was my turn to try to argue. “Shut up, bitch, this will keep Coach Big Dick Spanks You Hard from getting too fucking drunk to function tomorrow.” Trey was snuggling into his daddy’s arms, Negan’s forced clothes tucked under his tiny tushy. “And don’t worry about Trey’s toys or clothes, we have some at our place. Now scoot.” He shut the door before I could kiss my guys goodbye, and I glared at him and reopened it.

Kissing Trey and then Negan, I whispered that if Eric kept it up I might not have a man of honor for the wedding because I was probably going to smother his ass. That made Negan’s face clear of irritation and I smiled at the laughter that echoed behind him as he and Trey went to Eric and Steven’s for the night. 

Turning back to face my horrible, terrible no good best friend, I caught him smirking at me. “What? It had to be done,” he said with an air of confidence. “Trust me, you two don’t need any more doses of cosmic horror. Besides, we’re gonna have our own party.” 

Our ‘party’ consisted of Eric, Laura, Arat, and a few of the moms I’d made acquaintance with during my teaching. We chatted, a few drinks were shared, but mostly everyone seemed fascinated by the story of Negan and Amara. I didn’t get to tell it, of course, since Eric was intent on taking over Mary’s place as drama queen of our trio.

“We were seniors. Negan was our coach, well, he taught PE since we didn’t do organized sports.” I shook my head and got comfortable in the chair I’d taken for myself. “Amara wasn’t SUPPOSED to need another semester of PE, but she’d gotten on Coach’s bad side.” All eyes locked on me in surprise. What could meek, sweet, mild as milk Amara Kendall have done to get on Negan’s bad side? “She told a cheerleader that she was glad the tart was flexible because her future job would no doubt involve a pole and a g-string.” Titters of laughter came from the moms, but Arat and Laura looked at me with more respect, which was hilarious because they already gave me buckets of it. “And she’s a grammar Nazi,” he stage whispered and I rolled my eyes again. “Corrected his ass so much that he gave her ass an incomplete.” He smirked and took a drink from his glass, needing more lubrication for his tale. “First day of senior year, Amara fucking Kendall gets called into the principal’s office and finds out that her least favorite teacher in her least favorite class gets her ass back for another semester.” He smiled. “The next thing I know, she’s counting his balls and updating his gradebook.” Even the updating part sounded dirty when his ass said it. More titters, more looks from Laura and Arat. “They had a hiccup, once during senior year, and then another came-” He stopped and shot me a look of worry that I’d be upset at the reminder of how we’d gotten separated. “All that matters is that we’re here now, and Coach finally gets to marry our princess.” A wink to me and I grinned back. 

“You were together for how long before-” Annie, one of the moms left her question dangling.

“Around five years.” I smiled, thinking about how comfortable I was with what brought us to this moment, and tomorrow. “Tomorrow is a LONG time coming.” 

“Too fucking long,” Eric offered, taking my hand in his. “I hope like fuck that Steven looks at me like Coach looks at you, Amara. Because then I’d know for a fact that-”

“He does, you fucking flaming Dorito.” Everyone giggled, even Laura and Arat. “It was torture being around your happy asses for so long while I waited-”

“No more waiting, right?” His hand squeezed mine and we both knew he was right. Come hell or high water, tomorrow I’d FINALLY marry Negan. Thank fucking God.

Our party didn’t last long, and I nearly had to order Eric to share our bed with me. Rolling my eyes, I pulled down the sheet and blanket. “We’ve shared a bed before, you freaking weirdo.” I said, shaking my head and wearing one of Negan’s shirts and a pair of his boxers. Hell, I’d even put on granny panties. “What is your problem?”

“I don’t know,” he groaned, yanking down the linen on Negan’s side. “Feels fucking weird to end up in this bed, lying in Coach’s spot.” I grinned, realizing I had something to fuck with him about until we fell asleep. Teach his ass to keep me and Negan apart.

“What’s wrong, Eric?” I smirked, crawling into bed. “Are you afraid you might go straight because Coach’s fucking alpha male pheromones are basically saturated in the fucking linen? Or are you scared because you’re gonna smell his scent and have wet dreams, and he’ll smack you with Lucille for marking his territory?” 

I heard him groan into Negan’s pillow, and then muttered, “Fuck he does smell fucking good, doesn’t he?” 

I was laughing and then I was asleep. The edge off from the alcohol I’d had, and the silliness of my best friend made my dreams soft and vague. And I knew that I’d wake up to the sunlight, and get ready for the moment it seemed I’d waited my entire life for: marrying the man of my dreams.

Back to my first question, what does a wedding in the Sanctuary look like? Well, pretty fucking normal by apocalypse standards. Chairs were lining the room where I learned housed the furnace, but it wasn’t a focal point, since the ‘altar’ was on the opposite side of the room. I walked down the metal stairs, where I knew that Negan often addressed his masses, and felt all eyes on me as I heard a concentrated echoing gasp. 

My eyes were on Negan, waiting with someone he’d picked to perform the ceremony and I could tell that he was fighting back emotion. Trey stood quietly beside him, eyes wide at Mama dressed in my wedding day finery. Laura had brought up a man who had worked as a hairdresser before the world went to shit, and he’d worked to tame my hair into a soft updo. I was careful with my makeup, wanting to look pretty, but natural. Eric had insisted that I wear the jewelry that Negan gave me all those years before during our first parting. Instead of wearing the long strand of rhinestones down the front, however, he turned it and let it fall down the length of my bare back. Covering the clasp that was now in the hollow of my throat by tightening the shorter necklace, he deemed me gorgeous. 

Arms linked, he helped me walk forward, toward the two men who made up my world, along with Eric and Steven, and as time passed adding Laura and even Arat, my family stood together as Negan FINALLY completed the trio of rings that he’d promised me when we first moved in together. Kissing the breath from me, I smiled as our officiant pronounced us ‘husband and wife’. When we turned to face the people who made up the Sanctuary, I was startled when they all knelt, thinking it was simply for him, I felt my throat tighten when they answered his question of “who are you” with “Negan AND Amara.” Shit.

The mood was festive, for everyone, since Negan pulled out some stops and treats were had without points. Sparingly giving out alcohol, since rations weren’t unlimited, and small delicacies that the kitchen worked to create everyone appeared to be happy for us. 

Negan told me, repeatedly, how gorgeous I looked. How he was so fucking happy he hadn’t peeked in the fucking bag, and how much he couldn’t wait to start the honeymoon. I raised an eyebrow at this. One night was all I expected, but his smile was blinding as he reminded me that our honeymoon was forever. 

“Ready to get out of here, wife?” He whispered in my ear and I nodded. Trey was in his arms. “Boo?” His tiny face looked into Negan’s seriously. “Give Mama a kiss, you’re going to have a sleepover with Uncle Eric and Uncle Steven tonight, ok?” He nodded and offered me his puckered lips. Rubbing his nose with mine, I smooched him loudly and caused a ringing giggle to come out of his lips as he shook his head. “Mama’s silly, isn’t she, buddy?” Eric was nearby and he watched as Negan kissed Trey’s cheek, making his own loud smacking sound and the giggles continued. Hearing his cue, my best friend, man of honor, and forever brother came over and opened his arms for Trey to launch himself into. 

“Time for Mama and Dada to say night-night?” He waggled his eyes, causing more giggles from the toddler and a smirk from Negan. “Held out longer than I had odds on, Coach.” He winked, and then grinned at us. “Go, we’ll make sure chaos isn’t unleashed on the festivities.” Steven was in conversation with Simon and a few of the other outpost leaders. “I’ll even keep my eye on Magnum PI over there.”

Negan scooped me into his arms, forcing all eyes on us again. “If you’ll all excuse us-” he bellowed, and then we were up the stairs and heading for our rooms, before I could even start to blush at what I could imagine were shared knowing looks about our rush to our rooms.

I surprised him by NOT letting him undress me. Telling him I had one more surprise, I locked the bathroom door behind me and got ready to knock my husband off his feet. Luckily taking off the gown was easy, I even managed to not get any makeup on the delicate fabric. Off came the required undergarments. The shoes were gone too. Then I took a moment to release my hair from its pins, and had to work carefully to put on my wedding night lingerie. 

Lace and ribbon, that’s what made up the scrap that I wore. Taking another moment to study myself in the mirror, spraying a spritz of perfume to refresh myself, I smiled at the glowing woman looking back at me. 

When I opened the bathroom door, my smile softened when I took note that Negan hadn’t been idle while I got ready for bed. A few candles from our old house were flickering around the room, the curtains drawn so the room was in darkness, and there he was waiting for me with his back propped up on his pillow. I bit my lip as I watched him drink me in.

“Was that-” his voice went away in a breath, and he tried again. “I’m very fucking happy I didn’t peek in that bag, Amara.” 

I crawled onto the bed, holding out one of the satin bow’s ends, Negan took it and pulled. Then I was under him, the scrap of lace being tugged off of me before we finally made love as husband and wife.


	44. And They Lived Happily Ever After...The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK. Yes, you read that chapter title correctly. I re-read "Put Me In Coach" looking for a path forward and I realized that this was the perfect spot to stop. Amara and Negan. Princess and Coach. Married and content. No one needs to deal with Rick's vengeance against Negan, or Maggie's urge to perform 'an eye for an eye' justice. Not with Negan, Amara, Trey, and their happy little family.
> 
> This story was supposed to be a one shot. It could have stopped after that first chapter and stood alone just perfectly. BUT--Amara and Negan had more story to tell. The story grew legs and ran. And here it ends.
> 
> Yes, this is a vague chapter. Yes, it's less of a 'going out with a bang' and more of a 'fade to black' type of ending. 
> 
> Thank all of you once again for coming along on this ride with me. I love Amara Kendall (and ERIC, OMG Eric). I had fun writing this story (yes, even with all the angst and upheaval).

Waking up with my husband wrapped around me, our bodies entwined like they had been since the first night we spent together, was a routine that would never grow old with me. Seeing my wedding band, those tiny diamonds set to mean “forever”, nestled on my finger with my promise ring and engagement ring gave me a feeling of contentment that I once thought would never come back to me. 

Marrying Negan brought us full circle. From being punished for a smart mouth, to lust, to love, to angst and pain, to THIS. Forever.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew that nothing in this world was guaranteed, but I also knew that with Coach by my side, with Eric and Steven close by, and with our tiny boy Trey cradled between us, I could face whatever came next.

Feeling the man I love stirring behind me, his lips drawn to the back of my neck as though we were magnets, I felt peace. 

I can’t say what would come next, I didn't have the ability to see the future. If I had that ability, I would have SEEN Negan and me together. And to be honest, that would have fucking ruined me before I was prepared for him. 

The future, whatever it holds, will come regardless. And I fucking hope it was prepared for us. MY family. MY husband. And MY people. Because if there was one thing I was certain of, it was the fact that we would die for one another, and we would most definitely kill for the safety of ours. 

I willingly let Negan roll me onto my back, and I smiled up at him, haloed by the morning sunlight filtering through our windows. As he slid inside me, as natural as breathing, another certainty came to me. Negan would love me until the end of his life, just like I would him, and hiccups that may come to try to throw a wrench in our happiness would fail.


End file.
